


Lone Wolf

by Mirabitur



Series: Lone Wolf No Longer [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, And a dating guide, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Abuse, Animal Transformation, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Chases, Drugs, F/M, Feral Behavior, Hydra (Marvel), I am a cruel mistress, I swear, Kidnapping, Lab Mice, Magic, Magic Darcy Lewis, Mates, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oblivious darcy, Or maybe the third, Poor Bucky Barnes, Poor Courting Etiquette, Read my trigger warnings, Seriously guys- the burn is super slow, Shifter Bucky Barnes, Shifter Clint Barton, Shifters, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Stalking, They don't get together until the second act, Were-Creatures, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Werewolf Mates, Witch Darcy Lewis, almost, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 50,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirabitur/pseuds/Mirabitur
Summary: Alone in the tower, Darcy and Bucky are attacked by unknown assailants.This botched attack manages to trigger a transformation in Bucky, and he looks at Darcy with the eyes of a predator.Darcy, naturally, runs.Bucky, naturally, gives chase.But things can never be that simple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cygnus1123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnus1123/gifts).



> There will be more to come. I'm posting it as is because I am an asshole.

Darcy shuffled into the kitchen, blinking blearily at her surroundings. It should be empty, since the Avengers were all out on missions and Tony was with Pepper in Malibu. 

But it wasn’t. No- there, in the corner of her vision, was a darkly brooding spot. She shifted her head slightly to the side and yeah. That was the pouting visage of a man left behind while his friends went on adventures. 

Well. 

‘Pouting’ and ‘Friends’ might not be the right words. There was no definite expression on his face, but she still felt like he was pouting. Maybe she was picking up on some infinitesimal wrinkle or tilt of his mouth. Maybe her lessons with Nat were starting to show some dividends. Or maybe she was just seeing things. 

And she was pretty sure he didn’t like anyone other than Steve. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure of that. 

Their eyes met and they both gave the obligatory short nod of acknowledgement and, social niceties observed, continued on as they were. 

And there it was. The pinnacle of human achievement, the source of that vital, dark, life-giving fluid that she so craved at this time of morning. The coffee maker was magnificent- it was hooked to FRIDAY, since Tony wasn’t allowed to give inanimate objects sentience anymore, and would remember your preferences, having them hot and ready by the time you got to the kitchen. 

She eagerly reached her hands forward to the mug sitting under the drip and -

It was cold. This couldn’t be right. It was supposed to be hot and ready. 

She pulled the mug towards her. This was also wrong. The cup was empty. Why was it empty.

_ Why is all the rum gone? _

No, it’s too early, and she was too much of a functioning adult to start day-drinking. Also, drinking alone was no fun; Jane was off doing research at the Space Telescope Science Institute in Maryland. And there was no way she was asking Tall, Dark, and Deadly to get sloshed with her, they’d barely said a word to each other in the entire time he’d been in the tower. 

Making a disgruntled ‘hn’ to herself, she moved closer to peer at the display. Instead of the regular display, not that she actually knew what it was, since FRIDAY was  _ supposed to brew her coffee for her _ , the screen flashed with a single exclamation point. 

She repeated her noise of disgruntlement. The coffee beans must be out. Luckily, there would be more in the pantry. Contingency plans agreed upon, she marched her cute little butt over to the room off of the kitchen, intent on getting her caffeine fix, one way or another. 

_ Peanut butter _

_ Crackers _

_ Six boxes of Lucky Charms _ Really, Clint? You are a child.

_ Way too many bags of protein powder _

_ Coffee! _

As she grabbed the bag and made her way back into the kitchen, she thought she heard a thump. Or maybe she felt it? Through the floor? 

Considerably more wary, she eased her head around the door jam and found that her caution was completely justified. 

There, standing in the middle of the kitchen, stood Bucky Barnes, facing away from her, shoulders heaving, and- yeah. He was standing over a body. 

Bodies. 

Plural. 

There were bodies on the kitchen floor. Multiple bodies. This was not how she anticipated the day going when she got out of bed this morning. Not even a little bit. 

She startled a little as she bumped into the counter, not having realized she’d been moving. When had she started moving? Why? She was an idiot- she would have been better off staying in the pantry. At least there she could have barricaded herself in without the risk of starvation.

Now?

Well, she had missed the boat on proverbially sticking her fingers in her ears and singing to herself. She was out in the open, armed only with a bag of coffee beans, and she was going to have to deal with this situation. She was an adult. She could deal the fuck of this situation. 

Whatever this situation was. 

The bag crunched against the counter as she set it down. It wouldn’t have made a very good weapon anyway. It was better to have her hands free. 

At the sound, Bucky whirled around, a look on his face that was… Well, it was a look, and that alone was out of character. It wasn’t overly threatening, but it also wasn’t friendly, and he was showing entirely too many teeth for a huma- oh. 

Darcy happened to catch his eye. His golden eyes bored into her- what color were they normally?

_ Gold... _

They glinted in the light.

_ Gold... _

There was something niggling in the back of her mind.

_ Gold... _

Something about the color.

_ Gold... _

It meant something.

_ Gold... _

Value?

_ Gold... _

Wealth?

_ Gold... _

Power?

_ Gold... _

Yes, power. Something about power…

_ Gold... _

What was it? 

_ Gold... _

Powerful like…. Like...

_ Gold... _

Like some kind of animal...

_ Gold… _

_ Shit! _

 

Shit. She was so fucked.

Gold eyes meant shifter. They meant instincts and strength and  _ what did those trashy romance novels say? Not that she read them. That was all Jane, before she got her hunk-of-lightning-love. _ Right. Animal Magnitude.

And gold eyes in a human face meant trouble for everyone involved.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light and his eyes were brown? Hazel? Anything other than that iconic gold? 

No dice. 

That was definitely not hazel, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.

That color stayed, no matter how hard she blinked her eyes, she just kept staring into those golden pools and- 

Shit. 

She was looking him straight in the eyes. She had no idea what kind of shifter he was, but almost all of them saw that as a challenge, and the last thing she wanted to do was issue a challenge to a shifter, especially one that could probably kill her with his pinky. 

Nat could do it, after all. And the word on the street was that the man in front of her had helped train the infamous Black Widow. He would be just as dangerous, if not more. 

What did she do?

_ Focus, Darcy! What kind of shifter is he? _

She let her eyes track over him, taking in the lines of his body and how he held himself.

_ Ummm…. Not a bird _ ?

Well. That wasn’t inaccurate, but it also wasn’t especially helpful. At least he wasn’t going to pick her up and carry her away.

_ Definitely a predator _ .

That was more helpful, but less encouraging. One might even call it discouraging. 

Her gaze traveled back up to his eyes and saw even more teeth on the way. She had no idea what his mouth was supposed to convey, but it surely couldn’t end up well for her. 

His upper body leaned towards her, as if preparing for something, and her upper body leaned back in response. Just as the tension between them began to crescendo, she saw movement behind him.

There, on the ground, was one of the black-clad bodies that was, apparently, alive, and was waveringly raising some kind of baton. A distraction.

_ Her Savior! _ Well, her savior that might have been responsible for getting her into this mess in the first place, but he was the hero of the minute, villain of the hour. Such is the way of things.

Barnes’ eyes followed hers, disgruntled at the distraction that took her attention away from him, and found one of the men on the floor attempting to raise a stun baton. 

He scoffed at the thought of the puny voltage having any kind of effect on him, and swiftly dealt a blow to the head. It could easily have been made into a kill shot, but Steve seemed keen on the idea of him not killing anyone. 

As he turned back around, intent on continuing from before the interruption, he was thrilled to see that she was gone. 

A chase! 

A challenge and then a chase! 

This is not what he had thought was going to happen when he woke up this morning. It was  _ so much better _ ! 

He felt a thrill go up his spine at the prospect of the chase. A run through the tower was a welcome reprieve from sitting in his rooms every day, or forced social interaction. It would not only be a battle of physical ability, but of cleverness. 

He relished the hunt. 

\---

Darcy saw an opportunity, and she took it. While his attention was diverted by the goon on the ground, she ghosted, sprinting away towards the stairs. She didn’t have the stamina to transverse them all, but she didn’t have the lobby in mind as her destination, anyway. 

That would be stupid. To lead a potentially rabid shifter into a lobby full of commuters was asking for trouble, for her and everyone else. If his animal had taken over his mind, as the eyes had indicated, then there were a few things she could assume.

_ Assumption 1:  _

_ The goons were using some derivative of the Impulse drug. Originally marketed to make people drunk without the alcohol poisoning, it had the unfortunate side effect of making shifters lose their collective shift- shit (lol, accidental adrenaline pun ftw), forcing their animal brain to the forefront of a body it wasn’t meant to control.  _

_ Assumption 2: _

_ He was likely chasing her because she was there, a source of amusement and stimulus. He wasn’t doing this because he was hungry. The tower had plenty of food, and he was at the epicenter.  _

That didn’t actually make her feel better. She couldn’t placate him with food, so she was stuck running.

_ Assumption 3: _

_ He will have animalistic thought processes. _

This one was actually something of a blessing and a curse, since animals didn’t use logic. If she used a thought process he couldn’t follow, then she would get off scot free. That also meant that she wouldn’t be able to reason with him. 

Don’t get caught, or bust.

These were big ifs. But not the worst odds she had ever operated under- this was just one man, albeit an augmented one, and he had nothing on dark elves or fire breathing robots.

With these in mind, her plan was to meander her way to the closest safe rooms, on level 77, while avoiding him. Once she got into the room, she could relax, because nobody else had access to these floors, there was a separate stairwell for the rest of the tower, and he would have no reason to go to another floor. Easy, right?

Well, no, not easy, because she was on a fucking time limit and her body was not made for these conditions. Despite Natasha’s best efforts, her body was squishy. It was an awesome squishy, but squishy nonetheless. But she had also learned evasion tactics. Sort of. 

Could she get into the vents? Was that even a useful strategy? Surely Barnes’ shoulders were too wide to fit into the ductwork- the man was built!

She had started on the 90th floor and this was, what, the 87th? Was three floors enough of a buffer? It was if he didn’t know which floor she got off on, but she couldn’t remember if Impulse changed the senses in humanoid form. Were the eyes the only physical change? She couldn’t remember but she also couldn’t keep running, so it was a risk she would have to take.

Though… She could do her best to stack the deck. She stayed on the landing of her chosen floor but unwound her scarf from around her neck. Hoping it was sufficiently suffused with her scent, she wafted it around the air before leaning over the railing and tossing it on the landing below. 

It had used up some of her head start, but hopefully it also gained her time. 

She darted through the fire door and down the hallway, glancing around at the familiar layout and- yes! Her luck was on pointe, ballet pun intended, because she was on Natasha and Clint’s floor. She spent enough time here to know the ins and outs of their shared spaces, like the booby traps and vent accesses.

But, hopefully, Barnes wouldn’t know, because he seemed to avoid human interaction,  _ especially _ Natasha. He might have gotten along pretty well with Clint, but Natasha was always hanging around like a disgruntled cat, not pleased at having Bucky so close to her squishy human partner. 

Mostly human partner. 

Partner. 

Look, defining shifters was hard, and most of them didn’t have too much bleedthrough between their animal and human halves. Clint just looked like a regular dude, while Barnes moved with a predator's grace.

_ Thanks a lot, Impulse. _

She scurried through the space, grabbing one of the sweatshirts that Clint had left and pulling it on, taking any opportunity to hide her scent. In the corner, hidden from view by a plush armchair, was a square vent cover just small enough for a grown man to feel uncomfortable squishing into it. Hopefully. There was a hinge along the top, and she quickly raised the cover and shuffled herself in. 

She was not a novice in the art of vent-fu, but she was nowhere near Clint’s level. She could either be quick, or she could be stealthy. She could not be both.

Before she had a chance to make a decision, it was taken out of her hands as the door slammed shut behind her and her cover was blown. Cursing to herself, she army-crawled forward, trying to find- there!

Darcy thanked Thor that Clint was a nester. It was to be expected from a bird shifter, but Clint liked to create little hidey hole spaces both for emergencies and for hanging out. When rebuilding the tower, Tony had taken this proclivity into consideration, and many of the vent junctions were a bit larger than necessary, with the moderately sized vents opening onto what amounted to a very short room, maybe enough for a twin mattress. Clint had taken that idea and run with it, and he had at least 12 nests that she knew about, and no doubt more.

Clint was weird like that, but she wasn’t in a position to judge, since she kind of needed the supplies in his nest. She really didn’t have time to go searching through the materials, but she did remember leaving a roll of duct tape in here the last time she was chilling with him in his nest. She hurriedly stretched tape over the opening of the vent she had just exited, a shoddy booby trap at best, and hustled her way over to another duct opening onto the nest. 

She had to disguise her whereabouts, and taking a vertical shaft wasn’t going to be a viable option. While it would be a quicker way to get to the safe room, she couldn’t do a stealthy controlled descent.

Darcy was beginning to realize she was not nearly as stealthy as she previously thought. 

Taking several more turns quickly, Darcy didn’t bother to listen for signs of pursuit, knowing her panting breaths would cover up any noises of the stupidly-stealthy former assassin behind her. She scrambled out from under another vent cover, managing to catch this one before it clanged shut to let it drop gently, and tried to take stock.

“FRIDAY?” She queried, inwardly wincing at the way her voice warbled. 

No reply.

She took her phone out of her pocket. 

No service.

Great, that meant that she was on her own. 

She could do this. She was an adult. Currently, she was the best adult on this half of the tower. 

Maybe she could detour through the labs? Hide in the equipment? 

No, those machines were expensive, Jane would literally kill her, and Barnes would definitely be able to use any supplies in there much better than she could. 

Better to keep running. 

Darcy sighed and made her way to a different set of stairs, going down several more floors. Maybe she could just continue like this? Take one staircase down a couple floors, switch to another one, wash, rinse, repeat? 

Not her worst idea. 

83rd floor. The gym. 

Darcy quickly ran into the women's locker room, dumping out all of the dirty towel bins and turning on the showers before exiting and doing the same to the mens. Anything to muddle her scent trail. As steam and stale sweat filled the air, she ran to the controls of the battle simulator. It was actually a pretty nifty thing that Tony had rigged up, meant to create holograms of environments and opponents for the team to train against. Hopefully all of the moving lights and figures would distract Barnes for a little while. Like a cat with a laser pointer. A really big, deadly cat with a really big, expensive laser pointer. 

After setting it up to cycle through the toughest opponents and choosing the setting with the poorest sight lines and turning the difficulty to the max, Darcy went on her way, not even pausing long enough for it to fully render. Three more flights down and she was on the 80th floor, only three away from her goal. 

She cursed quietly to herself. Of all the mistakes to make. This floor was empty, and if Barnes managed to tail her this far, he would know exactly where she was, since the only thing down here in months had been the little cleaning bots Tony had made. Before rushing to change staircases again, Darcy took a moment to catch her breath. 

How was this her life now? 

She had been fully prepared to savor a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate, maybe eat some cereal, and then do some data logging. Maybe even clean up the lab a bit. But no, she was sweating and panting while trying to run away from the big bad wolf.

Three more floors. She could do this. 

Finishing up the breather that she really didn’t have time for, Darcy opened the door to the stairwell and began her trek to safety once again. 

Just three more floors.

Two now, just two more flights of stairs. Going down was much easier than going up, isn’t it? Aren’t you glad you’re going down? 

And now she was talking to herself. Was she going crazy? Or was it just the fight or flight response? 

One more now, almost there. 

So close.

There! The door marked 77 in big, bold letters stood in front of her. She was so close to her goal that she could almost taste it. Her hand reached out towards the door before flinching back at a loud noise from above her. Jerking her head wildly for the source, her eyes met those golden pools. 

Barnes. 

Fuck.

He was three flights above her, glancing down at her, and he was  _ entirely too close _ . 

Darcy reached her hand those extra inches and wrenched the door open, flinging herself through it as she heard movement on the metal of the stairs. She sprinted with all her might down the hall, towards the safe room. 

She threw herself through the open doorway and slammed the ‘Close Door’ button just as she heard the staircase door slam into the wall. 

She had made it. 

She, an untrained civilian, had managed to evade a feral Winter Soldier. 

She was safe.

Darcy pitched forward onto a ridiculously plush couch that Tony had insisted be included in every safe room, content to catch her breath as comfortable as possible. She smushed her face into the cushion and panted. 

She let the heavy weight of exhaustion seep over her, floating in its grasp. It was warm and comforting. It was breathing against her neck.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckys point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to tamani17, Aderendal
> 
> My Gem, cygnus1123, and I read all the comments, and we especially appreciated how you two seemed to be on similar wavelengths as us!

He relished the hunt.

He prowled forward towards the hallway, his lips struggling between baring his teeth in pleasure and grinning. His wolf-mind was in charge, with his counterpart serving as both angel and devil on his shoulder, but this wasn’t the body he was normally in charge of. He knew how to work it, but some of the movements felt strange. 

He would still be able to hunt her, though. Little Darcy, who had challenged him to a game she knew he would win. A game to prove how strong he was, how good of a mate he would be for her. He would follow her like he would any prey, chasing her down and maybe getting a taste of his delicious morsel. 

If she’d let him. She was fierce, in her own way. Like a kitten. Capable of harm, but ultimately cuddly and adorable, a being made to spoil, not to fear.

Not like him. He should be feared. He  _ was _ feared.

Most of the Avengers were at least wary of him, but not Darcy. His human counterpart murmured something about foolish irreverence and a disregard for personal safety. 

That was okay. He would protect her from threats. She need not fear for her soft underbelly or any pups she might give him. 

Pups. They would make beautiful pups. Powerful pups. She wasn’t a shifter, but his wolf was strong. Maybe their children could be both? They could have his animal strength and from her they could get that caring magic? The one that felt like undefinable warmth and conveyed the concept of home. 

She smelled like home. Warmth. Love. 

They would be a good pack. A strong pack, with her as the den mother. They would be-

He was getting ahead of himself. 

First he had to prove to her that he was worthy of her, capable of protecting and providing for their pack. Their family. 

He could do that. 

He would be the  _ best _ mate. 

No other mates would compare. 

He stopped outside the door of the staircase. He knew she had gone this way, he could smell it. Should he follow right after her? Or should he give her a chance to prove herself to him? He had enough self-worth to realize that he was ‘quite a catch’, as one might say. He had been told that anyone would be lucky to have him. 

He would be lucky to have her. Darcy. His mate-to-be. 

Really, he had spent so long daydreaming that he had basically already given her a head start. If he waited much longer, she might think he couldn’t keep up. 

He could. 

Keep up, that is. 

He made his way happily down the stairs, grinning to himself. He was perhaps showing too many teeth to count as a smile, but the sentiment remained the same. 

Her scent trail stopped three floors down, but there was something bothering him about it. It wasn’t a clear path. Glancing around, he caught a glance of something on the landing below. 

If he did a little wiggle when he reached the object, there was no one around to tell. She had left him a gift! Even better, it was a useful gift! The scarf was soft as he buried his face in it, and he hummed in pleasure. It was saturated in her scent. It smelled like magic and home. 

Bucky wondered if he would be allowed to keep it when he found her. Though, really, why have a scarf when he could have the source instead? 

Beaming a little brighter, he began to wrap it around his neck before stopping. 

He knew he was damaged. He knew there were sharp parts of him that could hurt her, on the inside and the outside. But he was a protector, he could protect her from them. From everything. 

Bucky started carefully wrapping the scarf around his metal arm. Reclaiming the appendage from those that had subdued him. It was still not a part of him, would never truly be his, but he could give it to someone he knew would take care of it, love and accept it. Though the cloth would not hide how unyielding the material was, it could make it warmer. 

Like Darcy. 

Darcy was warm. 

Even when he was having bad days in the tower, she could always spare him a small smile. 

She had a pretty smile. 

Bucky gave a smile of his own as he tucked in the end of the scarf. Like a lady might give a hankie to her knight. There may have been some minor preening involved. Maybe.

He still had to prove himself. Being the champion of a lady-

_ “Lady Darcy,” came Thor’s booming voice _ .

Did not mean that she was his as well. 

He bounded back up the stairs, through the door marked 87, and stopped to take stock of his surroundings, inhaling deeply. This room belonged to the bird-man and the little spider. He had never been on this floor, the little spider was too possessive of her bird-man. 

He prowled forward, following her trail but in no real hurry, before hearing a crash and running several steps forward. 

Bucky sniffed the air carefully. No blood. No cries of pain. The hunt was still on. He should let her run a little longer, let her prove herself as well. Should he stay silent? Or let her hear him? 

Would his Darcy find it insulting if he didn’t do his best? 

Yes, she probably would. Of course, they both knew that he could catch up to her, but the anticipation was half the fun of it. If she knew exactly where he was, it wouldn’t be a challenge. 

Continuing to follow her scent markers, Bucky stiffened as he passed the couch. Something had changed. Some foreign scent had joined his little mate-to-be’s. This was not okay, not okay at all. He took a deeper breath. It was the bird-man! 

The puny bird-man was trying to steal his mate! He had his own! The little spider was so protective of him, it had confused Bucky, but maybe this was why! Maybe the pathetic little bird-man had a wandering eye. But why would that make the little spider more wary around Bucky? 

Maybe they were in it together! 

They already had each other, why did they have to try to be greedy!?

Bucky frowned and huffed furiously through his nose. He was upset at the greed and duplicity of the spider and bird-man, but he would still come out the victor of this chase. 

The spider was smart. He had trained her, after all, and could still remember her transformation into who and  _ what _ she was today. She wouldn’t risk the mate she already has for the chance at a new one, even one as lovely as his little Darcy.

His little kitten was perfect, but they couldn’t have her. 

He follows through the vent cover, realizing that this must be what had made the noise. He had to slow down, though, the ductwork too narrow in some places for proper maneuvering. He smirked as he came across her cute little tape trap at the junction of a wider area. 

It was clever. Quick to set up, and distracting anyone less disciplined than he. 

He was the best, after all.

As he lands in the nest- the nest of the bird-man, he realizes that he was wrong. 

_ Stupid _ .

He knew that his wolf-mind was in charge, but that didn’t mean he was all animal. He never was, even in his wolf form. He was operating a human body with the neural connections of a human brain. The attack by the invaders, that strange white powder that had been thrown into his face, had managed to suppress his dominant personality, his human part. They had probably been hoping to get the Winter Soldier, ready to comply, but hadn’t done their reading. The Winter Soldier didn’t want to come out to play, so they got good old wolfie in charge, with his human side along for the ride.

Wolfie  _ should _ have been able to realize that the scent of the bird-man - _ clint- _ was too faint to be the man himself. It was just something that the archer had extensively scent marked.

Still not cool.

Bucky slowly shuffles himself through the twists and turns, grudgingly acknowledging that this was a very effective way of slowing him down, and…. Yeah, this was going to be a problem. 

For whatever inane reason - _ stark-, _ the exit of this vent system was smaller than the rest. There was nothing else he could do. Bucky popped his head out of the vent and, after checking to make sure that his little mate was nowhere in sight, he ducked back, placed both hands on the sides of the vent exit, and  _ shoved _ . 

In a spray of metal and plaster, the vent cover flew through the air, hitting the opposite wall and landing with a clatter. Someone would clean that up later, probably

Bucky followed along to the stairs, descending several floors, and then following a hallway to…. Another set of stairs? 

Well, as far as scent masking went, this was not the worst plan he had seen. With this technique, her scent would be in each stairwell, and an inexperienced tracker would have a difficult time with where to start.

Luckily, he was not inexperienced. 

He exited the stairwell on the 83rd floor, pausing in front of two doors. She had obviously gone in one, and then come out to go in the other, but the scent trails were so close together that he couldn’t tell which was which. He sighed deep in his chest. There was nothing else to do but guess and hope for the best. He would surely be able to make up more time later, right?

Muscle memory guided him to the one labeled “Mens”. Letting the door close behind him, he took a deep breath and frowned. Minutely. It was a microexpression, really. 

Steam fogged the air in front of him, filling the air with the combined scents of other people’s bodily odors. Gross.

He plucked at the scarf on his arm, holding one end to his face to take comfort in the scent. Bucky promised himself that he would bury his nose in the crook of her neck as soon as he caught her, to get rid of any lingering scents. 

Steve liked to joke that, for a wolf, he had a lot of feline proclivities, including cat-like reflexes, and he used them well as he nimbly bypassed the showers, avoiding stray puddles and water. He pushed open the door at the far end, eager to catch his prize, and froze.

This was not what he had been expecting on the other side of the changing rooms. Instead of the large open space covered in dense padding, there were barriers of varying heights, the ceiling was dark, and there was fog rolling over the ground. 

What was this? 

He knew that that doctor that Darcy was working with was studying portals and such, but he had thought that she was a ways off from any sort of real-life testing. He liked to keep track of anything that might bring hoards of aliens down upon him, or turn into a black hole or whatever. There were risks involved, he knew, and he liked to be aware of them.

Had she brought him somewhere else? To what end?

Bucky wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Darcy wandering around in an unsecured location. Though, he added, the tower wasn’t exactly impenetrable, if the goons upstairs had managed to get in.

Some kind of sixth sense had him diving to the ground just as he heard the ‘pop pop pop’ of bullets from a gun. It seemed that even his most instinctual mindset had instincts of its own, though it was more likely due to intense and unethical training for over half a century. 

He was a wolf-mind in a human body, following a challenge for a mating chase. He was glad that Darcy had deemed him worthy of this. To be honest, his human self was so reticent when it came to social interaction that he would have taken ages to make a move on the girl that was obviously perfect for them.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a spray of bullets from another location, this time on the ground.

What was this? Did she want him to prove himself in a battle setting? He was perfectly happy to oblige. 

He rushed the source of the second attack and, after coming around a barrier, found himself staring down at a man pressed against the wall, clutching a gun to his chest. Bucky punched out, going for a quick, one-hit knockout that he was sure she would find impressive, but stumbled when all he hit was air.

What trickery was this?

He whirled around, checking to see if his kitten had seen him lose his footing, but he couldn’t find her, and didn’t hear her breathing. He sniffed deeply, realizing her scent trail had mostly dissipated from the large area. 

Was this a distraction? What was the point of staying to fight fake foes if she wasn’t there to be impressed? This was all for her, after all. 

He strode towards the other end of the gym with a little more force in his stride. He wasn’t embarrassed. The projections were real enough to fool him, and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Even if he had fallen into the trap of relying on his eyes more than his other senses, as was common in his human form. He would have realized that he was still in the tower if he had used his damned nose. Still- if she hadn’t seen his blunder, he was not going to tell her.

He trekked down the stairs, coming out on another floor, this one empty. She had stopped distracting him with other scents, that must mean that she was ready to be caught! Yes- this section of wall had a greater concentration of her scent. She was tiring. He would soothe her and commend her evasion skills. And they wouldn’t be empty platitudes. For an untrained civilian, she was quite good. Not good enough to lose him, of course, but he knew that she had never wanted him to lose the trail in the first place.

He made his way to the staircase again, and his heart quickened as he opened the door. 

He could hear her!

She was so close!

He rushed to the railing and peered down at her, paying no mind to the door as it slammed close behind him. Darcy whirled around, and their eyes met. She looked beautiful, even in her mismatched top and bottoms.

_ T-shirt and sweat pants _ , his human half mumbled to him. 

Yes, those. She looked wonderful- ravishing, even, and he would dearly like to ravish her. 

She reached her hand out towards the door, never shifting her gaze from his. 

The maintained eye contact- a challenge! She was gauging his interest. Yes, he was still interested.

Very interested, he thought, as he shifted himself a little. 

He noted absently that the bird-man was absent. Good, he did not appreciate his interference. 

Darcy wrenched the door open and threw herself through it. He followed, his blood roaring in his ears. She was so  _ close _ !

He exited the stairwell just in time to see her disappear through a doorway down the hall. As he neared, he could see it sliding shut on its own. He nimbly slid himself through just in time, grinning to himself at how clever his mate-to-be was. She had made sure that he caught up to her in a private, secure space. 

So thoughtful, his Darcy was. 

So clever. 

So beautiful, laying as she was, sprawled out face down on the spacious couch. Her dark hair tumbled off the side, and he could see the dampening of sweat near her temples. Her back heaved as she caught her breath, tired from the chase. 

She shivered minutely. His kitten must be cold. He should warm her up. 

He padded softly over to her and, gently, ever so gently, laid himself over her, dwarfing her body with his own. He sighed in pleasure as he nosed into her neck. The scarf was nice and all, but this was so much better.

\---

They lay there for several brief, sweet moments, before she started coming back to herself, tensing. 

Bucky crooned in an attempt to sooth her, but she only attempted to slide away from him even more.

What was wrong? Did she not accept his suit? Did he need to prove himself more?

Most female shifters, his wolf-mind remembered being told, were satisfied with a mate that was strong and a good protector. He had shown that he could protect her, both in the kitchen and in the gym, and he had shown his tracking skills, which would translate well to hunting, should they have need of it.

What else did she want? 

He had won the challenge and ensuing chase, proving himself as the best candidate to be her mate, but that didn’t mean that it was a done deal. She could reject him at any point up until they bonded, and he would have to start all over from the beginning! A rejected suitor would have to start the courting process all over, opening the playing field to competition. Or so he’d heard- he didn’t have any experience in courting like this, and he wasn’t exactly a normal shifter.

Before he could ponder more on that, he caught a sour note in the air.

Fear.

His little kitten smelled of fear. 

Why did she smell of fear? Was there some unknown threat in the place? This sanctuary that she had provided for them? She was not at fault, of course, if there turned out to be a threat. His little mate-to-be had brought them here in good faith. He beat himself up internally, knowing he should have secured the room before attempting to warm her up.

Should he comfort her?

That wouldn’t take care of any danger.

Should he check the surroundings?

Bucky didn’t really want to lose the feeling of her soft form pressed against his. 

Could he do both?

Bucky scooped her up into his arms, eliciting a yelp from her, and he took a moment to bury his nose in her hair indulgently before prowling around the perimeter of the space.

Aside from the couch, there were large cabinets mounted along the walls of the room. Opening them one by one, he found a wide variety of items, fit for a multitude of emergencies. 

First Aid supplies, canned foods, fresh linens, an array of varying weapons and tools.

Yes, this really was an ideal space to nest, but they couldn’t use it if she wasn’t comfortable.

He had caught her, winning the challenge portion of courtship. After the acceptance of his victory, they would quickly move on to scent mark and then Denning. They would create a den together and stay in it, suffusing the space with their combined scents while he continued to prove that he would be a good mate.

She could still turn him away, but that wouldn’t deter him. She was perfect. Their pups would be strong. If she said no, he would have to leave and regroup, starting the courtship all over again. That was his inner pessimist talking- he would show her that they would work well together.

It might be fun, he thought, to chase her again. But he would rather run with her as his mate. The ending was more fun that way. 

He wasn’t above continuing to posture, however, holding her with just one arm and flexing so that she could admire his musculature.

He would be the  _ best _ mate. She would see that, in time. 

The cabinets were empty of any dangers. So was the small sleeping chamber, the bathroom, and the kitchenette. There was nothing that could have possibly spooked her. 

She seemed to be calming down, though, obviously comforted by his response to her stress. That showed that he was a good mate candidate, attentive to her needs. 

Bucky preened internally, happy with how this was going.

His heart warmed as he glanced down and found her sleeping.

She trusted him! She felt comfortable enough in his presence to sleep in his arm even as he was moving around looking for potential dangers! She trusted him to protect her. Even when he couldn’t fix whatever was bothering her about the rooms.

Maybe it was because it was unfamiliar? It smelled sterile?

Bucky thought for a moment on what he could do about that. Should they stay? It was well stocked, but she didn’t feel safe and it didn’t smell like them. But where else would they go?

_ Home _ , his inner human thought.

Home? Darcy was home. Darcy was warmth and happiness and-

_ Home _ , he said, much more forcefully.

Yes, home. Anywhere Darcy was would be home. She was- what had Thor called it? A Hearthkeeper. She made spaces comforting and inviting, she could turn anywhere into a home.

_ No, bring her to our rooms _ , his inner human bit out, aggravated at his own one track mind. 

Well, his rooms were secure. He had ensured that the only fingerprints that worked were his and Steve’s. And both sides required a scan. Individual door security ran on its own circuit, so it was harder to compromise the system. 

Bucky grinned wildly as he started to plan. He would have to move quickly, he wanted to have them ensconced before the rest of the Avengers returned. 

It wouldn’t do to have them interrupt their courtship, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Zephrbabe, SoraSings, TeaAndTricks, and, as ever, tamani17. Your comments were on parallel lines to my train of thought
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Often_Reading. You literally made me almost snort my sandwich when I was trying to write. Also: “flip their collective menagerie”

 

She found herself drifting contentedly in the space between dreaming and wakefulness. Her muscles all felt heavy, a sign of a good, deep sleep, and she couldn’t think of any reason for her not to go straight back into dreamland. 

Darcy stretched lightly, shifting her shoulders and clenching her fingers, feeling what must have been the softest blanket in the world. She wondered if Jane had brought it back from Asgard. It might be the softest blanket in  _ multiple _ worlds.

She could feel her friends’ hand on her hair, the other woman's body warm against her upper back and she curled around Darcys head. 

Darcy had missed this. After London and the Dark Elves, it felt like she and Jane rarely got to spend time together that didn’t involve the all important pursuit of  _ Science! _ Darcy missed nights spent on the roof of the old car dealership in New Mexico, talking about everything that crossed their tequila-infused minds.

Maybe she should tell Jane about her dream. She bet the other woman would get a kick out of it. It had all the hallmarks of a b-list movie- there had been goons with guns, drugs, badass former assassins that turned into feral former assassins, and then a chase through the tower. An adrenaline-filled adventure, really.

Darcy almost felt like she was getting second-hand adrenaline from the dream, but that wasn’t a thing, right? 

And then, the weirdest part, when he had finally caught up to her, he had just cuddled and sniffed her before carrying her around the room like a treasured pet or stuffed animal instead of, you know, literally eating her or something. 

It was weird, but Darcy much preferred waking up relaxed from a weird dream to waking in cold sweats from a nightmare. 

Yeah, Jane would find that funny. 

Jane was awake, too, Darcy noted. That was kind of strange, right? That Jane was both awake and in bed. Usually, if Jane was awake, she was rushing off to  _ Science! _ or to find Thor, not staying and running her fingers through Darcy’s hair. That was really more of a Thor thing to do. 

Thor liked playing with her hair, Darcy thought to herself, floating in the space between dreams.

She had often woke up after a movie night to find her head full of braids or have Thor’s strong fingers carding through her hair. 

Come to think of it, the fingers did feel more like Thors than Janes, but that couldn’t be right. Thor was off planet. And this didn’t feel like someone combing their fingers through her hair in preparation for plaiting it. This felt more like…. Petting. Warm fingers trailing down her scalp and neck before repeating. 

Darcy shivered at the feeling. 

She felt a sense of deja vu, that same persistent feeling of wrongness that she had felt in the safe room in her dream. It had been a dream, right? There was no way that Bucky Fucking Barnes had gone feral but then decided she was his personal teddy bear. 

Right? 

Darcy slowly became aware of a periodic puff of air on her right temple. She let out a light groan of lethargic awareness, not really able to muster enough energy for anything more. A croon sounded in response.

That wasn’t a Thor sound. 

It also wasn’t a Jane sound. 

If anything, it was distinctly nonverbal, yet indicative of wakefulness. If Thor or Jane was awake enough to be running their hand through her hair, they were awake enough to be using their words. 

Therefore, this was not Thor or Jane. 

Darcy tensed up at the realization, and received another croon, this one longer. Her eyes snapped open. Darcys’ gaze darted wildly, trying to get an idea of where she was and what was happening without alerting whoever was fucking crooning at her.

All she could really see was a blank stretch of wall, mostly blocked by the blankets taking up her field of vision. Well, the walls and blankets looked normal enough. They were in good condition, at least. No crown molding on the ceiling, but no noticeable stains or scratches.

That told her nothing. She was going to have to move. 

Darcy shifted carefully, feeling the body behind her moving with her. Slowly, she cautiously turned her head to see her companion, and let out a miniscule sigh of relief as her eyes caught sight of Bucky Barnes. Miniscule- infinitesimal, really, because he was still plenty dangerous.

His eyes were still golden, but he was at least someone she knew, even if he was currently in an unpredictable mindset. Being with him was better than being kidnapped, at least. She took a quick stock of her surroundings and realized that the room was familiar. While she had never been here before, she was familiar with the layout of the standard apartments, and this was obviously Barnes’ room. Maybe she had been kidnapped after all. 

She looked back at the man resting on the bed with her, and their eyes held for a moment before she broke away.

_ Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid!  _ Eye contact was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place!

Barnes leaned towards her, and Darcy leaned away as much as she was able as his face got closer and closer. His face drooped, and Darcy felt a brief moment of remorse before remembering that she was not exactly here willingly. Barnes got up, crooned softly at her, and left the room. 

As soon as the door closed, Darcy started taking stock of the situation.

She was in a bedroom that was set up similarly to her bedroom in her own accomodations, identifying it as a Stark/Avengers Tower apartment. The room was very spartan except for the multitude of pillows and blankets bundled onto the bed. Why did a super soldier need so many blankets? Yeah, POWs deserved to have nice things, but this seemed a bit excessive, especially since he didn’t have anything else in the room. Hadn’t she read something somewhere about the correlation between pillows on the bed and depression?

Something to keep in mind.

Darcy was fully dressed except her shoes. That was comforting, at least, that Bucky-  _ no, Barnes, he was Barnes right now _ . It was comforting that Barnes had respected her bodily autonomy while she was unconscious. 

God, that was embarrassing, falling unconscious in his arms like some swooning damsel. In her defense, she had been running around the tower with no food, no caffeine, and a shit ton of adrenaline, and she was pretty much exhausted by the time she realized that he wasn’t going to kill her. 

There was something pulling a bit on her right arm when she shifted, and Darcy found a bandage there. Why did she have a bandage? She peeled up one side and found a small scrape, barely a scratch. Had Barnes seriously bandaged this? It was so small that Darcy wouldn’t have even bothered washing it off. 

What the hell was going on. 

There was refraining from eating her, and then there was actively caring for her. 

She would have looked around more, but the moment she tried to fully sit up and shift her legs to the edge of the bed, she realized that she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Her muscles ached with every movement, and this went a little beyond what she might experience from a hard day at the gym. She took stock of her body and- yeah. Every major muscle group hurt like a bitch. 

_ Was this what dying felt like? _

Don’t be silly, now was not the time for jokes. 

_ Every time was the time for jokes. _

Darcy kept her body still and tried a different approach. She took a deep breath and called her magic to her, gathering it all up before pushing it out to survey her surroundings and- yeah. That may have been a mistake. 

Darcy gave a low grunt of pain as the wind was knocked out of her. Really? She was suffering from both muscle _ and _ magical fatigue? She was a sitting duck, literally unable to lift a finger to defend herself. 

She could guess what had happened, though.

People use magic unconsciously to defend themselves, the sympathetic nervous system hijacking conscious control. Darcys’ magic wasn’t made to be used offensively, so her body must have pushed her magic into her muscles to allow her to run more quickly for a longer period of time than she normally would. So her magical core was depleted from being used for the new task of physical augmentation, and her muscles were useless from use and being flooded by magic.

Great. 

Darcy flopped back onto the mound of pillows behind her in frustration before she could think better of it, letting out a longer groan of pain at the motion. That had been a mistake. 

Just as she was letting the air out her lungs, attempting to relax, the door opened with a bang, Barnes in the doorway. 

He looked good, in the light of day. 

He always looked good, really, but he looked good with his black tanktop and grey sweatpants, hair in disarray, some kind of purple cloth covering his metal arm, holding a small paring knife in one hand and a half open banana in the other.

Darcy wasn’t really sure what his plan was, or what he thought he would be defending her from, but she did feel some slight amount of gratification at his speedy response time and enthusiasm towards her safety. 

Seeing no external threat, Barnes slipped the knife and banana in his pockets and came towards her. He ran careful hands over her shoulders, massaging gently, and nosing lightly along her neck. What was he doing, checking for changes in her scent or something?

Yeah, actually. That was probably exactly what he was doing. Animals were weird like that, with their fancy noses and shit. And shifters had that little bit of magic that made them all the more attuned to changes in scent, pheromones, magic, what have you, to detect changes in health or emotion. He snuffled lightly into her neck before nipping lightly along her jaw and pulling away.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

It didn’t hurt, but it was totally not the reaction she was expecting. He was checking for injuries, why was he biting her?

Darcy let out a squeal that was two parts shock, one part indignation. He grinned wolfishly at her.

Wolfishly? 

Hadn’t she read somewhere that wolves would show affection through nibbling? Was that what this was? It certainly cleared up what kind of shifter he was, then. 

She still wasn’t totally sure what was going on, and his eyes still held that telltale gold glimmer as she stared up at him, but he didn’t seem inclined to hurt her or anyone else, so she was content to not fight him as he fluffed the pillows behind her. The end of the purple cloth trailed behind his arm. Was that her scarf? Well, if he wanted it that much, he could have it, she supposed.

Not that she was completely okay with this, no sir. Contrary to popular belief, she did, indeed, have problems with attractive men hovering over her after chasing her and scaring the everloving shit out of her in the process. So yeah, she wasn’t going to be entirely complacent, but she was also smart enough not to poke the sleeping bear. Wolf. Dragon?

_ Wait- no. That was Hogwarts and tickling. Stop. _

Barnes leaned in again and nipped at her ear, causing her to startle violently out of her thoughts. She let out a low groan of discomfort. His attention immediately diverted to looking her over and assessing her for injuries, but Darcy was really not in the mood and waved him off. 

In response, Barnes saw fit to offer her the banana from his pocket.

Darcy looked at it questioningly, glancing between the fruit and his face. What was she expected to do with half of a banana? But Barnes looked so eager and hopeful as he held it out, and she couldn’t find it in herself to squash that hope.

She takes it and holds it hesitantly. His eyes went from hers to the banana and then back several times. He was expecting her to eat it, wasn’t he. Darcy gingerly opened the peel and made a slight face as she picked off a piece of fuzz from the flesh. Apparently even super soldiers and assassins weren’t immune to pocket lint. 

She glanced up at him and saw that yes, he had seen her reaction and seemed to be taking it personally. She felt like she had kicked a puppy. Him, specifically. She felt bad, but not enough to eat his pocket lint, no matter how good he looked in those sweatpants.

Darcy took a large bits of the banana she didn’t actually want to eat, and tried to give him a smile. It only kind of worked. His expression turned mopey, yet he still managed to be devastatingly handsome. 

Damn him.

Both of his hands found her shoulders, rubbing them lightly before sweeping down the arms as he stood up, a clear indication that he wanted her to stay where she was. It wasn’t like she was going to go anywhere, with her cramps.

As his hands left her, she felt the tactile equivalent of an afterimage, her right arm cool and her left arm warm from his touch.

As he exited the room, he was, dare she say, bustling? Certainly walking with a purpose. 

_ Wow, look at that tush go _ .

Darcy let her head fall back on the pillows and thought about her situation. What was she supposed to do for cramps? Was she supposed to make them hot or cold? Could she even do that in this case? With her immobile and Barnes nonverbal? It would be nice if she had her phone so that she could look it up, or if FRIDAY was working. 

Or was FRIDAY back online? If she wasn’t, that was even more worrying than being ensconced in Barnes’ rooms. FRIDAY handled too many of the towers operations to not be working. 

“FRIDAY?” She queried softly.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?” Came a voice from the ceiling.

Good. FRIDAY was back.

“Can you let someone know that I need some help getting out of here?”

“There are currently no others in residence with clearance to access this floor. I am sorry, Miss Lewis.” Darcy sighed. Not that she hadn’t been expecting this answer, but it was still unfortunate. Barnes needed help, and she didn’t really want to be in a confined space with him if he suddenly decided she wasn’t welcome.

“When are they due back?”

“The mission has been completed and they are assisting with cleanup, finding survivors, and speaking with local leaders. I estimate that they will be back in 24 to 48 hours.” That sounded fairly important. Darcy didn’t really want to recall them so hastily if she wasn’t in immediate danger. A day and a half. She could do that. She just needed to maintain her status as a nonthreatening entity. 

Speaking of threats- “What happened to the goons in the kitchen?”

“No one has left the kitchen since Sargent Barnes departed, but my sensors in the area are damaged.” That could be problematic. If FRIDAY couldn’t tell what what was going on, it would be that much harder for her to deal with.

“Let’s keep it that way, okay FRIDAY? Lock down access to the communal kitchen.”

“Initiating lockdown procedures now, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy sighed again. Well. No help was coming from that front. FRIDAY could probably override the restricted access to Barnes’ apartment, but that would still require someone to sign in from the outside, and the floor was only open to the Avengers and Avengers-adjacent. And Darcy couldn’t move, so someone would have to come carry her. So she was stuck.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gem: *corrects one spelling mistake in my outline* I participated!
> 
> So- Gem(my beta reader) and I do read all of your comments- and we adore them. sometimes I get lost in the nebulous future of the story, and it is only plotted out in a general sense..... If you comment something that fits along with my vague outline, there is a good chance we will consider it..... 
> 
> like- if I haven't already defined something, like someones character/creature status, you might be able to exert an impact on that.....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamani17, dude… did you manage to hack our google drive? Like- wtf…  
> Gem has concluded that you are me from an alternate universe, and we are connecting through this fanfic.
> 
> Nyurla: “flicking my bic”, that sounds vaguely sexual, but i can dig it.  
> Zephrbabe: Yeah…. I totally did the banana thing on purpose…. *looks around wildly* its, uhhh, a good source of potassium….  
> Often_Reading: Thanks for the heads up about the bodies. I totally didn't forget about decomposition being a thing that exists..... totally....
> 
> Dedicated to NevermoreBlack, for bringing up the whole actually having a wolf form thing…. We’ll get to that eventually…..
> 
> No sandwiches were harmed in the making of this chapter.

Now was the moment of redemption. 

He had flubbed with the banana, he could admit to himself. Serving a mate dirty food was no way to win them over. 

He quickly gathered his offerings from the kitchen and returned to Darcy, finding her as he left her, but with her head thrown back and looking at the ceiling. She looked lovely, and showing her throat to him meant that he wasn’t in that much trouble, right? 

He set the dish down on the bedside table and gathered her upper body into his arms, relishing the feeling of her soft form. No- now was not the time to get lost in her curves, as lovely as they were. Now was the time for Action! 

Romantic Action! 

Wooing!

Courting.

Feeding?

Yes. Now was the time to show her how good he was at feeding her and any potential pups. After settling her against the soft cushions on the bed, he sat by her side and began feeding her. 

\---

Darcy goggled slightly as a hand bearing grapes came into view. Grapes? He was hand feeding her grapes? What was she- some grecian goddess? Not that she was against being worshipped, but this was all very strange. 

And cheese. There was also cheese. All that was missing was wine and crackers, really. 

She had to wonder, though… How much coordination did it take to cut cheese? With an animal mind in human skin, you’d think it would be hard. Not that it really mattered- he was still plenty dangerous, and she had to remember that.

But, well, she was hungry. And he was awfully nice to look at. 

He kept feeding her grapes and cheese, and she was really pretty full. Really, she didn’t want to keep eating, not at this pace. But Barnes didn’t seem to want to stop.

\---

Darcy held up a palm as he moved to give her more, and Bucky froze. What was this? Was this some kind of rejection? Did she not want what he had offered her? Had she found a problem?

She made another gesture and he relaxed- she wanted him to eat as well! 

This was a good sign.

Not only was she taking what he could provide for her, but she was continuing to prove herself worthy of him as well, making sure that he ate as well.

Bucky felt a warmth blossom in his chest. 

He could eat, he supposed. 

Really, he could always eat. It seemed like he was always hungry.

Bucky ate several bunches of grapes and slices of cheese before stopping himself. He was so much bigger than her, he could eat so much more, and if he wasn’t careful, there wouldn’t be any left for her. 

Bucky tried offering her some more grapes and cheese, but she shook her head lightly. Maybe she didn’t want any more of them right now?

She had to still be hungry, though, right? She had run all over the tower, and he knew from his own experience that that kind of exercise made one ravenous. 

 

Barnes held out his hand in offering, this time with a small package. A protein bar. 

Great. 

Darcy wasn’t really hungry anymore- not enough to warrant a protein bar, especially not one formulated for super soldiers. Seriously, those things were like a punch in the metabolism, and she didn’t need that right now. 

But he looked so hopeful. Who could say no to that face? Not Darcy, that’s for sure. 

So she took the protein bar from his hand and set it beside her. His brow furrowed, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out another. She took that one as well and set it beside her as well. The furrow deepened, and he went to grab another before she placed her hands on his arm.

“No more, I’m fine.” He gave a questioning croon in response.

“Yeah, I’m full,” she said.

His lips pursed at the statement, but his arm relaxed. 

God, how was it fair that he had such a perfect pout. Really, what the hell?

 

Bucky pursed his lips at her statement, but acquiesced. She wasn’t turning him away, just the protein bars. Did she not like them? He had other flavors, but she didn’t want him to take them from his pockets. What was he supposed to do instead? 

She said she was full. 

That didn’t seem feasible, considering how little he had fed her, but she  _ was _ smaller than him. Maybe what barely constituted as a snack for him was a meal for her? 

He would have to do more research. It wouldn’t do to make assumptions about her caloric needs and end up starving her accidentally. 

So she was full. 

On to the next task, then.

 

Barnes seems to accept that she doesn’t want any more food, and gets up again. 

Seriously- does he have a list of things he needs to do? 

He takes the plateware back out of the room and returns with blankets, trying to pile them on and around her.

Darcy is having none of that- she is really quite warm and doesn’t appreciate the added layers. So as soon as he turns his back, she is using what little strength remains in her arms to push the covers away. 

And he comes back with more blankets. Great.

Darcy starts to notice that he seems to be bringing them for her perusal, holding them close to her face and hand, allowing her to touch them before placing them on the bed, which is starting to become overcrowded. 

Honestly, Barnes reminds Darcy of DUM-E trying to give her things in Tony’s workshop. The little robot would roll up to her, beep in greeting, and hold something out to her. He would beep in happiness if she took it from his hands, even if she then placed it on a table. 

Was Barnes doing the same thing?

Not that such a conclusion was that helpful. She didn’t know why DUM-E did it, and she didn’t know why Barnes was doing it either. 

Barnes tucked her in once more, and then dropped down on the bed, one arm resting across her body. The weight was almost soothing to her, kind of like the weighted blanket she had in her own room. She wouldn’t mind staying like this, she thought.

She started dozing again, comfortably cocooned. 

Barnes didn’t seem to have the same mindset, though, and after about 10 minutes of relaxing, he got up and left the room.

Was he going to try to feed her again? Darcy wasn’t looking forward to that….

But he came back empty handed and laid back down half on top of her. 

What was he doing? There was a bathroom attached to the master bedroom, and this was that-

Wait. 

Why was she in Barnes’ master bedroom. 

Didn’t he have a guest bedroom?

Where was he sleeping? With her? On the couch?

Darcy closed her eyes, as if that would help against the onslaught of her thoughts.

It didn’t.

But with her eyes closed, it was easier to allow herself to drift again, so she did.

But she was pulled out of her doze again by Barnes getting up, again. 

Where was he going?

“Where is he going?” She asked FRIDAY when Barnes was out of sight.

“Sergeant Barnes is patrolling the perimeter.”

“Of the tower?!” Darcy exclaimed, sitting up quickly. He shouldn’t really be outside with his condition, someone could get hurt. Her body protested the sudden movements.

“Of his quarters and this floor,” FRIDAY corrected, finishing her sentence just as Barnes walked back through the door. Darcy could see it happen right in front of her eyes, like a train wreck in slow motion. 

Barnes registered that there was a voice coming from the ceiling, and his eyes go wide. He tenses up for a split second before his body is thrown into action, lunging at Darcy. Before she even has enough time to tense in response, she is in his arms and then airborne, being carried so quickly it felt like flying. Moments later, she found herself in a darker room, pushed into the corner of the wall and floor, with his entire body covering hers. 

She shivers at the proximity, and he shoves himself closer. 

Darcy found herself thankful for the fact that he hadn’t bothered to unwrap her from her blanketed prison. It was bad enough to be pressed so close to him with the barriers in place, and it could only get worse if the extra fabric was gone. 

She inhaled shakily, taking in the scent clinging to him.

If she could bottle up this smell, she would spray it on her pillow cases, so that she could go to sleep each night with it in her nose. Maybe it was his deodorant? But it had too many elements of shifter magic tickling at her nose. And why would a wolf think to use antiperspirant? 

_ All the better to scent you with my dear _ …

So this must be what Barnes just naturally smelled like. She liked it. It was nebulously undefinable- her mind said woodsy, fur, magic, but none of the notes could be tied back to something concrete. 

Almost like this entire situation. So many aspects, but nothing that made sense. 

And it was getting kind of ridiculous.

“Barnes, it’s fine,” she stage whispered. His head turned minutely towards her, an acknowledgement if nothing else. “It’s just FRIDAY.”

Shouldn’t he already know this? Did he not have access to his human memories? That was worrying, it made him unpredictable. Well, _ more _ unpredictable. If his wolf and human halves were unable to communicate, she didn’t know who he would see as friend or foe. She was surprised that he hadn’t put her in the latter category, since they hadn’t had all that much interaction with each other.

She untangled her hands and pressed lightly at his back.

“Barnes, let me up. It’s fine.” Really, this whole surprise-surprise-surprise thing was hell on her nerves. He just grunted and pressed back on her.

“Barnes, I have to get up.” He grunted again. For a man unable to use his words, he was surprisingly good at saying no.

“No, really, Barnes. I have to pee. You have to let me up.” After a long, low grumble, he shifted forward, rolling onto his hands and knees. With more room to maneuver, she saw that he had taken them into his closet. It was kind of sad, how few things he had in here. Maybe she would take him out shopping, when this was all over. 

Yet again, he doesn’t let her get up on her own, scooping her up and striding to the bathroom door. He walks on in and sets her upright before standing back. 

She waits for him to leave.

He makes no move to leave. 

She gave him her go-to expectant look: head pushed forward, shoulders pulled up, eyes open wide. He just cocked his head.

“Well?”

He cocked his head further. 

“Aren’t you going to leave?”

He shook his head.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

He shrugged. 

Seriously? After the day she’s had, he could at least let her pee in private. 

“Okay, no. You need to leave.” Darcy said, pointing her finger at the door. Barnes’ eyes went wide and beseeching. 

No, Darcy. No matter how cute he was, you can’t be a pushover. Lines have to be drawn in the sand, and this is a good starting point. You don’t want to pee in front of anyone, especially not an adorable wolf shifter with no concept of personal boundaries. Just-

“You can leave the door open a crack, but you need to leave the room.” It wasn’t quite standing her ground, but those eyes were lethal weapons. He still looked so sad, but he left the room easily enough. 

Darcy sighed and got down to business.

 

Bucky left the room, shoulders slumped. 

Had he made a mistake? He had wanted to protect her from the voice in the sky, which Darcy called Friday. Was this ‘Friday’ an ally? Had he offended it? He would have thought that his quick response would have won him points, but maybe not. 

He was just concerned for her, really. But Darcy didn’t seem to appreciate it. It’s just- she was moving so stiffly, and she didn’t finish her food, and he was worried. Bucky was familiar with the silly concept of ‘privacy’, but it didn’t extend between mates- maybe Darcy hadn’t fully accepted him? He was aware that watching her urinate could be a breach of privacy if they were strangers, but they weren’t! And it wasn’t weird- really! 

He just wanted to check up on her health. Urine could tell a lot about a person, after all. It could tell diseases, fertility, if they were eating, and many other things. Bucky just wanted to make sure she was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!
> 
> What do you want to see in the future?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to PossiblyNotAVillian, rachelladytietjenswrites (heliophilenz), Often_Reading, NevermoreBlack, and Tamani17, for the inspiring/enlightening/heart-warming comments.
> 
> Dedicated to Zephrbabe, for bringing up some awesome questions and thoughts on the future.

Darcy finished up her business  and left the room, dragging the blankets behind her. She was stiff, but it was manageable. Barnes was lurking outside of the bathroom, a hangdog look on his face- ha,  _ dog _ \- as he stared intently at the door to the bathroom. He seemed torn between attending to her and going to the bathroom to- what? To re-secure it? There was only one door and he was guarding it. 

His concern over her physical well being seemed to win out, however, and he bundled her back onto the bed, covering her with blankets and then his own body. 

He seemed intent on curling as much of his body around hers as he possibly could. Leaving no stone unturned, leaving no Darcy-part uncovered. He was restless, though, and couldn’t settle. 

_ What do your elf eyes see _ ? Wolf eyes? Were his eyes even open?

Barnes nosed into her neck and snuffled lightly. That was weird, but she could deal. Darcy could almost imagine the wet press of a canine nose. 

But then he starts licking her neck, and that less okay. Darcy tries to shift away, but with the way they were sitting, she was just craning her head backwards and down, away from the wayward tongue. 

God- any other time she might be okay with him getting all up in her business, but not now, not like this. She would feel like the worst kind of person if she was enjoying this while he was being forced to follow his instincts regarding weakened subordinates- it was the only thing that made sense. He was still feral, but he wasn’t being violent, so he must see her as a packmate in need. 

And it wasn’t like he could consent.

So, though a part of her cried out at the loss, Darcy nudged him away from her neck. He went easily enough, but didn’t stop, rubbing his face along her jaw. She was sure to end up with beard burn from his scruff, but it was alright, she supposed, as long as he kept his tongue to himself.

But no. 

Nothing else was going well for her, so why would this? 

Barnes quickly escalated from rubbing his face on hers to running his lips along it. When the tongue and teeth came out, Darcy decided that enough was enough. Just as she was pushing him farther away, he  _ bit her fucking jaw _ .

What the actual fuck?!?

An inarticulate cry, face wet, pushing him away, and- yeah. There it was, that face. That  _ goddamned _ face and the sad eyes and- ugh! How did he always manage to make her feel wrong-footed and guilty?

His face screamed betrayal mixed with recalcitrant puppy, and Darcy suddenly thought of dog training techniques. She had tried them on Jane a couple of years ago, with marginal success. Would it be morally wrong to use it on Barnes? Maybe not, but it would definitely feel weird. 

Before she let her mind wander too far down that tangent, a soft whine drew her attention back to the man on top of her. Her fingers flexed, feeling the firm pectorals under her palm. 

In his right mind or not, the man was fine as hell.

And here she was, under a man she found incredibly attractive, with the task of stopping him from doing anything that either one of them would regret. 

Great.

 

Bucky was distraught. 

Rejection!

What had he done wrong?

He had obviously offended her in some way, and now she would never see how good of a mate he could be, and she would never fall in love with him, and they would never live happily ever after with a brood of pups surrounding them, growing old together, and-

_ Stop. _

She didn’t push him very far, just removed his face from her neck and jaw. 

Not a rejection, then. Good- he could recover from this. 

But what was she rejecting? The scenting? 

Bucky didn’t like the idea of her wandering around without his scent-mark on her. All kinds of things could happen to her without his protection. Not that he really planned on leaving her alone long enough to get into any trouble, but you never know what the future holds. 

Maybe he could aggressively scent the blankets around her and hope some of it would transfer onto her? But he didn’t want her to see him as underhanded, so he would have to scent them out of view of her and then bring them in. The problem would be the scent dispersal. 

He could urinate on them? That would be a potent scent marker. Yes, that could work-

_ NO! _

The should of his human side rang loudly through his head, scattering his thoughts. 

_ Don’t you dare urinate on anything near Darcy! She will never talk to us again if you do that! _

His human side sent notions of a disgust surrounding urine that most humans seemed to share. 

Bucky sighed.

This whole ‘courting’ thing had really not been going as smoothly as Bucky had wanted… 

As a human, he had fallen into the perpetual cycle of pining from a distance, trying to gather up the courage to actually talk to the woman of his dreams. So far, he was 0 for 27 on attempting to break the ice. Bucky-the-Human had made numerous plans, each more far-fetched than the last. He fantasized about helping her get something off of a high shelf, and starting up a conversation. Of sitting next to her during team Movie Nights. Of having coffee prepared for her when she shuffled in, zombie-like, after a long night in the labs. 

That last one had made up more than half of his attempts, but he always lost his nerve and drank it before he could give it to her. 

A handful of chocolate chips and then a dash of milk.

Not like he preferred it, but it was sweet like her. Sometimes, under cover of darkness, he would imagine how sweet her mouth would taste after drinking it.

Enough about that- now was not the time for coffee-flavored daydreams. Now was the time for action! Wooing! Consulting his human side for tips with the ‘dames’, as they say.

After a brief discussion with his inner self, Bucky sat down to think. Flowers and chocolates might be appreciated, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the tower-fortress to acquire them. Dancing was out as well- Darcy could hardly move. He might have gone and serenaded her, but he still didn’t have proper control over the vocal cords in this body, and his wolf-mind was not suited to human speech.

A love letter? Writing wasn’t going to happen, but maybe he could draw. He could paint a proverbial picture of his adoration for her through a literal picture.

Well, that was certainly a thought...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! All thanks for the comments, Gem and I read all of them!
> 
> I love reading your thoughts and I get inspiration from your comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PossiblyNotAVillian, Often_Reading, tamani17, Zephrbabe- you guys are, like, all my ‘regulars’….. I’m sorry, but I’m probably going to stop calling you out- your comments are just so great every time!!  
> This chapter is dedicated to WheresMyWings, for the lovely song they left me….

Barnes had been gone for a while, and Darcy was starting to get concerned. Not for him- he could take care of himself. She totally wasn’t worried about him, and his sad puppy eyes. She was…. She was worried about herself. She couldn’t exactly move all that well at the moment. That was all. She wasn’t having any kind of stockholm-syndrome-affections for him. Even if he probably didn’t mean to kidnap and hold her captive. And even if he was ridiculously attractive.

Totally.

For sure.

Just as Darcy was casting off her boat of thoughts in to ~~denial~~ the Nile, the door opened and Barnes returned.

He made his way to her, looking shy and holding something in his hands. He offered it to her, and she took it. His eyes peered at her through his lashes, waiting for her reaction.

Did he give her a valentine?

The paper was thick and felt like high-quality drawing paper, likely from Steve’s stash, and he had painted a red heart. Inside the heart was a handprint with claws on the end, next to an infinity sign. There seemed to be a picture taped inside the palm of the hand, and as Darcy gazed at it some more, she realized it was supposed to be her.

 

 

Who knew that he would have such dexterity with his wolf-mind in control?

Darcy looked up at him in question. What was this? It was May! Not even close to Valentine's Day! He looked at her hopefully, and gestured for her to keep it, still waiting for something.

“It’s lovely, Barnes. Thank you.” His eyes widened minutely, and she saw a faint flinch as he took a step backwards. She reached towards him, trying to offer comfort for whatever had just happened, but he was too far away from the bed and she was too sore, and she started to overbalance without her core to keep her in place.

 

Any hesitance was forgotten as Darcy started to fall. Bucky reacted quickly, cradling her in his arms as she groaned in pain.

Pain? Why was she in pain?! How long had this been going on? How could he have missed this? She should have recovered from their mating run by now, right?

He let out a pained croon of commiseration, distressed at her distress, and started to look her over to find the source of her hurt.

 

Darcy flailed around weakly, confused at his antics, and did her best to calm him down. “It’s fine, Barnes. I’m fine!” But this only seemed to agitate him more, and he added whimpering to his menagerie of noises. He wiggled all over her, snuffling like a puppy searching for a treat, but with much less enjoyment for either party.

Barnes was basically losing his head- and for what? Some stiffness and a groan of complaint? Hadn’t he ever heard of a muscle cramp?

Darcy stopped and thought to herself for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t.

Bucky Barnes had been a fit young man, even before the serum, and probably didn’t get muscle cramps all that often. Not like the ones she was having now in her soft body, unused to exertion. He wouldn’t have gotten cramps after the serum, either. And he didn’t have all of his memories back, did he? Maybe he couldn’t actually remember?

“Barnes!” She barked out. Ha- barked. Unintentional puns, for the win! Back to the matter at hand- “Barnes, it’s fine! It’s just a muscle cramp, from running and climbing around yesterday. I’m just really stiff.”

Barnes whined again, still looking distressed, but much less hectic now.

 

Bucky was, indeed, distressed. Not only was Darcy not well, but she had called him Barnes. Why wasn’t she calling him Bucky? Had he somehow failed in his courtship?

Bucky went over the steps in his head again.

First: the Primary Stage, with seeking from the female, and posturing from the male. He had done that, hadn’t he? She saw him as a contender, and she moved them onto the next stage, Initializing Courtship, by issuing a challenge to prove himself to her. He had done so- quite thoroughly, in his humble opinion. That meant that she had accepted his place as the primary suitor. Hopefully the only suitor.

And that meant that they were currently in the Togethering stage. Denning was going well enough, the rooms were comfortable. Scent marking was a work in progress. Proving could be going better- he was supposed to show that he could provide her with food and comfort. Maybe that was the problem? She hadn’t eaten all of the food he had offered, hiding some of it in the blankets where she thought that he couldn’t see… And she was uncomfortable from these ‘cramps.’

Maybe that was it?

What did one do for cramps? Did he need to bandage them? Darcy had said that she was ‘just stiff.’ Maybe he could massage her?

He felt his mouth start to salivate at the thought of having his hands all over her, and had to push down those thoughts. Darcy was in pain- now was really not the time to think of what else they could be doing in his bed.

 

Barnes appeared to be thinking. Rather intensely, if the furrow between his brows was any indication. Coming to some sort of realization, he got up and moved to the bathroom with a purpose. After rustling around a little, he came out holding a couple of towels and a bottle of something.

Lotion? What could he possibly need lotion for?

He lifted her exposed leg and laid a towel under it before uncapping the lotion and pouring it on his flesh and blood hand. Reaching out, he started rubbing the lotion on her leg. That actually felt pretty nice. It got even better when his metal hand joined the party.

Darcy still had to stare in bemusement. This was the weirdest day, wasn’t it? She had a wolf-minded Winter Soldier rubbing lotion on her leg after having a fit about muscle cramps. Was this even okay for his metal hand? What happened if the lotion got between the plates. Her ever-so-slightly myopic eyes squinted down at the joins in the reflective material, but couldn’t make out any details at that distance.

Oh well. It was his hand, he could grease it up if he wanted to. And he could definitely put his hands on her whenever he liked- this was heavenly.

Slowly, she felt her muscles start to relax under his ministrations as they moved across her body, stiff cramps giving way to warm lethargy. She was effectively a puddle of Darcy. She could get used to this.

It wasn’t long until her dazed contentment drifted into sleep. She woke slightly at the feeling of a warm body laying down behind her and arms wrapping themselves around her, but was too relaxed to attempt any more awareness.

So they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, i'm working on getting the image to show up, but i posted it in these two places:  
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/160764028@N03/26387660477/in/dateposted-public/  
> https://78.media.tumblr.com/badd2307a08f548f82d669ab32887b37/tumblr_p6q7w5TFlf1rkqhlwo1_1280.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> I recently fell back down the rabbit hole of Sentinel and Guides, so elements of that might be making their way into this story.
> 
> Any thoughts?
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: maybe a bit of clarification, since some people are saying that the sentinel and guide stuff might not really fit into this story.  
> I was thinking that Bucky would maybe start to develop Sentinel tendencies and not handle it well at all, and there would be a whole plot arc while they try to deal with it and what it means.  
> There's a whole plot bit that I have outlined for this bit. 
> 
> It boils down to: Bad Guys are fucking with genetics and non-con experimentation on our dynamic duo, and now they have to figure out how to deal with/reverse it.
> 
> EDIT: I managed to figure out the images!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to nyurla

Darcy flinched into awareness, eyes darting around her, searching for any sign of fire and sand and metal, or pointed ears and white eyes and swirling red death. The world took shape around her, familiar enough to calm her racing heart and gasping lungs. 

She was fine. She had survived, there was no danger- well. There was no danger from aliens. She still wasn’t entirely sure of her safety.

Any lethargy that might have remained from last night’s massages had been chased away by her nightmares, and she groaned as she sat up. Movement from the corner of her eye made her flinch and then relax as she realized that it was just their resident werewolf. 

It was fine- she was fine.

She made to get up and felt firm arms come around her back to support her. Darcy was sure that she could have made it to the bathroom by herself, but she leaned into the comfort of his body heat, reminding herself that she was not alone.

After pushing, cajoling, and a small amount of threatening, Darcy was left in the bathroom to shower in peace. She could probably use a shower, she admitted to herself, but that wasn’t actually her plan. After a day of being stuck here, she was ready to leave. 

Had it only been a day? It had felt like much longer. 

It had been days, she decided. Starting with waking up to no coffee, because some assholes with delusions of competency had taken out FRIDAY.

She was ready to be alone. To relax- to get into her bathtub and soak without fear of a feral assassin bursting in. She was aware that he meant her no harm, but there was a line, and she was drawing it in the sand. Maybe she would even put in a bath bomb. She deserved it, right? After the day she’d had? Days? 

Whatever. For the present moment, the past didn’t matter- all that Darcy cared about was getting the hell out of dodge before Barnes caught wind of her plan. 

Darcy turned on the shower to cover up her movements and looked around the bathroom for- yes! There! On the wall above the toilet, right where she had been expecting, there was a vent cover. 

_ Thor Bless Clint _ , Darcy thought to herself. His weird fixation with the ventilation system meant that not only were the ducts on his floor large enough to crawl in, but the rest of the tower’s vents were as well. And man-sized vents meant that Darcy could crawl through them without scraping the sides too much.

She felt along the bottom of the cover, doing a silent fist pump when she found the expected release lever. Good, everything was going smoothly so far. Removing the grate and setting it gently on the shower mat, she stared up at her ticket out of there. 

The vents on this floor were slightly smaller than the ones she had crawled through on Clint’s floor. They might have been a tight fit for Thor, with his godly shoulder width, but Darcy should fit just fine. 

After stepping on the closed toilet seat, she shimmied her way into the vent and slid herself along. Now, more than ever, it was vital that she remain silent. She didn’t need Barnes getting paranoid and have him check the bathroom. Or worse- start shooting at the ceiling. 

After a very tense half hour, Darcy had made it to the junction by the stairs. It was then a simple matter of sneaking up one flight and calling the elevator. 

“FRIDAY?” She asked, looking at the ceiling.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“Do we have an ETA on the team?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis. The team should be arriving in approximately seven minutes.” That made Darcy perk up. Finally- someone other than Feral-Barnes to keep her company! She couldn’t wait to bitch to Nat and Clint about how weird her day had been.

Darcy made her way back up to the common floor, where this had all started. Not even sparing the kitchen a glance, she bounced over to one of the couches and plopped herself down. Just as she had gotten settled, she heard the telltale sounds of the quinjet engaging its landing gear on the pad outside.

She hopped up and walked over to the doors leading to the outside, waiting  im patiently for her friends to return. 

Steve and Sam came off the quinjet together, walking around to the entrance closest to what Tony had dubbed the ‘Shower Scene Central’, Vision and Wanda close behind- all four apparently heedless of her smiling face pressed against the glass obnoxiously. It was really just a fancy version of a locker room, conveniently located just off of the landing pad so they could slough off the detritus of their battle, the blood of their enemies, and even edible body paint, that one time. 

Bruce came off next, clutching his stretched out HulkPants™ and making his way directly to the elevator that would take him to his specially reinforced floor. Her wayward scientists had managed to work together long enough to create clothing that would stretch to accommodate Banner’s transformation, but they hadn’t realized the shortcomings of their creation until it was field tested. The pants would stretch with the Hulk, but they wouldn’t shrink back down afterwards- the Hulk had his modesty protected, but Bruce was left holding his waistband up to reach his armpits. Poor guy probably wanted to calm down, change clothes, and eat. Not necessarily in that order.

Darcy scoffed to herself about their obvious ignorance to her magnificent presence and turned her attention to her  original next targets. Clint was always the last one off of the quinjet, since he had to take care of the post-flight procedures, and Natasha was usually there with him, both out of a sense of camaraderie and because she still had difficulty trusting anyone else at her back, even after so long with the team.

Sure enough, her favorite spy-sassins disembarked and made their way to where her face was still mushed against the glass, probably leaving Darcy-shaped impressions on Tony’s fancy windows. Clint’s mouth quirked when he caught sight of her, though Natasha remained impassive.

“Hello,  маленькая ведьма. ” Natasha said in greeting, sweeping the younger woman into a hug that smelled of ash and burning.

“Hey, Nat,” Darcy replied, giving the spy a squeeze and then taking a good look at her. Natasha was, of course, perfectly capable of hiding any wounds, but Darcy trusted that the taller woman would let her know if she was hurt, knowing that she need not fear that Darcy would take advantage of a momentary weakness. 

“Hey, Darce,” Clint called over Natashas shoulder.

“Clinton.” Darcy stated, a smile curling around her mouth. They paused for a moment in the wake of Clint receiving the Full Name treatment, and Darcy took the opportunity to gauge his level of injury. Good- both of her spy-sassins were in working order. She was only able to hold out for a matter of moments before her face broke out into a grin and she held her arms open for the grungy man. Despite the fact that it was Natasha doing the close quarter combat, Clint always managed to come home dirtier.

Clint and Darcy hugged each other tightly, with Natasha looking on fondly, when they heard a low growl from the direction of the elevators.

“ _ Let go of my bitch _ !” Came a roar. They all turned, the two avengers wielding their weapons, ready for whatever adversary they had to face next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long- I've been struggling to finish up the semester at school. 
> 
> I can't promise that there will be a sudden increase in updates over the summer, since Gem and I don't live near to each other, but I can sure as hell try. 
> 
> Every comment and kudos reminds me that people like what I am putting out into the world, and I love reading that my stories have got your minds turning and twisting!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mickey_la
> 
> By the way, I haven’t actually seen Infinity Wars or Black Panther, so no spoilers!

Today was going to be a good day, Bucky decided. He would do better today, make sure to give her foods that she liked and- maybe they could even have one of those things that humans did! What was it again? Where two potential mates went on outings together without their friends? Where they spent time together?

_ A Date. _

Yeah- that!

Bucky obviously couldn’t take her outside of the tower, it wasn’t safe, and he didn’t feel comfortable taking her out of his rooms-  _ their rooms _ , he thought dreamily- so their date would have to be here. He could prepare food for her? 

Bucky, in a surprising show of self-awareness, took an assessment on how much of his mind was in control of his animal self.

So maybe he wouldn’t prepare food for them- poisoning her would end the courtship right then and there. He could order food? Maybe later in the day, though. He would prepare something light for when she got out of the shower, and they could spend time together before he ordered their lunch. He wondered if she would be impressed by his skill at ordering takeout. 

_ No, ordering takeout is not an impressive quality. _

So maybe he wouldn’t tell her, that was fine. He was only barely able to operate his vocal cords again anyway, so maybe it was for the best.

Plan made, Bucky set about preparing the fruits he had accumulated in the kitchen, doing his very best to display them enticingly. When he finished that, though, he found himself at a loss. He didn’t want the fruit to turn colors before she got out of the shower- maybe he should tell her that there was food? 

The werewolf walked quietly over to the bathroom door and crooned questioningly, the wordless noise still coming easier than structured speech. After receiving no response, he tried again. 

“Darcy?” He queried, her name flowing smoothly over his tongue. 

Still no response. 

His mind started to race. The water was still running, so she wasn’t finished- but what if she had fallen? What kind of mate was he if she had fallen and he hadn’t even noticed?

He cracked the door open and stuck the tip of his nose inside, sniffing for any indication of stress, pain, or fear. 

But there was nothing. Only the fading scent of the most wonderful woman in the world.

Wait- fading? Bucky shouldered the door open and stared at the scene in front of him. The shower was running, but the curtain was only partly drawn, and the vent above the toilet had been uncovered.

_ What kind of building has human-sized air vents? _

His human half brought up a good point. Had someone entered the bathroom and stolen her away? No, there were no strange scents. So she had left?

Why had she left? Hadn’t he been doing well? Bucky had thought they were really connecting on a deeper level. Where had he gone wrong?!

_ Instead of question every decision that has led you to this point, you could just find her and ask her. _

Ah, his inner human. The voice of reason. 

Bucky hoisted himself into the vent and began to follow the scent trail, intent on finding Darcy and asking her how he could do better.

He was able to track her until he reached the elevator, and then realized his dilemma. There really was no telling what floor she had gotten off on, or even if she had gone up or down. He could check every single floor, but that would waste too much time.

_ Isn’t there a computer system that can keep track of this for you? _

His human side, saving the day yet again.

“Computer.” He barked out. “Where is Darcy Lewis.” It was a command, not a request.

“Darcy Lewis is on the common floor, Sergeant Barnes.” Came the lilting response. 

He entered the elevator, pushed the buttons, and waited, fingers twitching at his idleness. 

Exiting the elevator, he came upon both a welcome and unwelcome sight. He had found Darcy, but she was not alone. His brow furrowed and he felt his throat vibrate in a growl before he spat out his command.

“ Let go of my bitch! ”

She was  _ his _ bitch,  _ he _ was courting her. How dare this interloper interfere! 

The werewolf was across the room in a flash, flinging the arms of the bird-shifter away from Darcy. The bird-man stumbled away easily enough, falling into the arms of the little spider, who clutched him close to her. Yet more proof that neither of them were worthy of Darcy. 

Bucky cradled his mate in his arms-

_ Mate-to-be, she hasn’t said yes yet _

Too concerned about her to bother with the pessimism of his inner human, he hurried to assure himself of her well-being, pushing his nose into the cradle of her neck even as he rushed them to the side of the room, wanting to have a wall at his back. By this point he had worked himself into a frenzy, and his truly primal self was not assuaged by the physical scent. So he pushed his face lower, searching for the source of her magic, his nose sensitive enough to sense it where it was close to the surface of her skin. 

He buried his face into her bosom, not because of any particular desire, but because the scent of her magic was strongest there, right next to her heart, and he had to check- he had to be sure that she was well. 

He breathed Darcy in, the scents of confusion-concern-alertness melding together in his head to form the picture of ‘Darcy is not hurt.’ 

He couldn’t let himself get too relaxed, though, so he pushed her behind him and turned to face the room, covering Darcy with his body. He glared steadily at the bird-man and little spider, almost daring them to try something so he would have a reason to attack. 

They were at a standoff when there was a ruckus from the kitchen.

“Um, guys?” It was Sam’s voice, with Steve exclaiming shock in the background. “Why are there bodies in the kitchen?” The bird-man’s eyes widened in shock while the little spider remained impassive. He had taught her well, he thought, some small part of him smug at the fact. 

With the silence broken, Bucky felt free to snarl at his opponents again. “Don’t touch my bitch.”

“Um, excuse me?” Came a soft voice from behind him. “Did you just call me a bitch?” Darcy sounded incredulous.

“ _ My _ bitch,” Bucky corrected absently.

“Oh, because that’s so much better,” Darcy said back, sarcastic in her distress.

_ Good _ , Bucky thought. _ She gets it. _

He had to keep his attention in front of him, though, because it seemed like opponents were coming in from all sides. Sam and Steve came in from the kitchen while Wanda entered from the door directly leading to the locker rooms. All three of them froze, joining in the tableau. 

Wanda’s eyes flashed red, and she gasped. The other Avengers subtly angled their bodies towards her, waiting to hear what she had discovered. 

“He’s gone feral.” She said, and muted shock rippled around the room.

“Do something.” Sam hissed to Steve, startling him out of his stupor.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied, in what could only be called a stage whisper.

“You’re his pack mate, aren’t you? Talk him out of it!” 

Steve looked slightly pained as he replied “I’m not sure it works like that.” But Sam merely jerked his chin at Bucky, unaffected by Steve’s hangdog look.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said cajolingly, his hands up as he slowly came forward. Bucky allowed him to approach, even going so far as to allow Steve behind the barrier of his body to check on Darcy. Steve was pack, after all, and who could he trust with his future mate if not his pack?

Steve looked up and nodded at his teammates, showing that Darcy was fine, and made the mistake of attempting to move her. 

In a flash, Bucky had shoved his pack mate away and pushed his mate-to-be back behind him, growling deeply at the room at large, unhappy at their interference. 

Just as they were entering into yet another standoff, there was a soft ‘Pop’, a thud of impact, and Bucky went down like a sack of bricks, revealing Darcy standing behind his prone form in confused distress. 

All eyes went to Natasha, who was still holding out the gun that had shot Bucky right in the forehead.

“What,” she said. “He’ll be fine, it was only an ICER.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I love reading all of your reviews! Your reactions to 'my bitch' were so great!! 
> 
> yeah, Darcy is definitely going to have WORDS with Bucky about that, but this was not that chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For HedgehogPie, for their comment regarding Sam.

Bucky Barnes went from sleeping to awake in an instant, taking a deep breath and automatically scenting the air.

A voice came from his right, making his shoulders bunch up. The words sounded muffled to his ears, not making any sense. 

He took another breath and frowned. Something was missing, something vital wasn’t here. He sat up quickly, provoking another wave of sounds from the voice. What could it possibly want from him? 

Bucky turned towards the source of the sound and found a large man with light hair leaning towards him. Reaching for him? Why was he reaching for him? Who was this man, and where was his mate? She should be here. 

His brow was furrowed in agitation as the blond man reached for him again. Bucky knocked the hand away and stood up, intent on leaving this place to find his mate. He strode over to the door and wrenched it open, only to have the man grab his wrist. 

While some part of him balked at harming this giant of a man- _ shouldn’t he be smaller? _ \- he was keeping him from finding his mate. She could be in trouble, and Bucky wasn’t there to protect her. 

So Bucky gave the man a light pop on the nose to make him let go and continued on his way, confidant that the man couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to get back up and keep trying to stop him.

There was a brief scuffle behind him, but before he could turn, he was suddenly reeling in confusion as the world seemed to tumble around him. A fist to his temple and he went down, realizing, as he fell, that he had been wrong. The blond really  _ was _ that stupid.

\---

Awareness had come quickly for Bucky as long as he could remember, though, admittedly, most of his life prior to his most recent liberation from HYDRA was fuzzy in his recollection. 

He took a breath in, maintaining the rhythm he had formed, and felt light fibers shift against his chest. Cotton? The air was cool and carried faint traces of antiseptic. But something else, too. A stronger scent of barbasol.

Steve.

Steve, who had been using the same brand of shaving cream ever since he had grown the first hint of chin hair in 1938.

“What happened, Stevie?” Bucky groaned. His head was killing him, and his mouth tasted like death.

“You don’t remember?” Steve seemed surprised, which couldn’t be a good sign. 

“No, I don’t remember, pal, else I wouldn’t be asking.” Bucky muttered back.

“Well, what is the last thing that you  _ do _ remember?” Steve asked, in that concerned way of his.

“You guys got called out on a mission?” Bucky said, more a question than a statement of fact. “The alert came in at some god-awful time of the morning which- let me just say, as a non-member of the Avengers, I don’t much appreciate being woken up for.” Steve’s lips quirked at the old argument. It was a holdover habit to wake Bucky up if he was leaving on a mission, from when he couldn’t stand not knowing where Steve, his one anchor to his past, was.

“Yeah, the mission took us a little longer than we had hoped. Is that all you remember? Nothing from later that morning?” This was going somewhere, Bucky could tell, and he was sure that he wasn’t going to like it.

“... Getting breakfast?” He hazarded a guess, though he did have some vague recollection of a distinct lack of coffee. 

“Well, yes.” Steve began, then trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase his explanation. 

“Just spit it out, Steve.” Bucky said, the pounding in his head making his temper shorter than normal. 

“Well, you see.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath to steady himself, and began again. “AIM managed to shut off the defence mechanisms, including FRIDAY, and they somehow pushed you into a prolonged feral state.”

“And?” Bucky prompted, knowing Steve had more to say.

“And Miss Lewis was there-”

“WHAT?” Bucky cried. Steve ignored his interruption.

“-and your feral side seemed to fixate on her, and there was a chase and then you took her to your rooms and…” Steve seemed to lose steam and almost deflated in his chair.

“And?” Bucky prompted again. “What did I do to her.” Steve seemed unwilling to continue. “Did I take advantage of her? Force her? Is she okay?” Bucky was becoming more and more distressed with every word, horrible images swirling through his mind of Darcy crying or covered in cuts and bruises.

“No, no!” Steve hurried to assure his friend. “I think your wolf saw her as, at the very least, pack. But I’m not sure it stopped there.” Bucky froze as his mind processed this, and he looked up at the taller man. Steve wouldn’t meet his eye and seemed to be… blushing?

“What else did I do.” Bucky said. Not a question, but a demand for answers.

“Nothing.” Steve replied, not convincing anyone.

“Steve.”

“Really, Buck, everything’s okay.”

“Steve.” 

Steve broke under the pressure of his friend’s interrogation- from his flat tone and intense eyes. They had taught the Winter Soldier well.

“You might have… You might have loudly claimed her as yours and then tried to fight the rest of the team for her.” Steve said. Bucky narrowed his eyes, knowing there was more. “And you might have called her a bitch.”

“I’m sorry, what?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Kara and InvisibleIsMyName, thank you both.

_ All eyes went to Natasha, who was still holding out the gun that had shot Bucky right in the forehead. _ _   
_ _ “What,” she said. “He’ll be fine, it was only an ICER.” _

-

Darcy stared at the redhead, utterly lost, and sucked in a shuddering breath. The rest of the room turned its attention from Natasha to Darcy, who was hovering on the precipice of a breakdown. 

It would be warranted, really, after the week she’d had. 

No, not week. It hadn’t even been that long. Only two days, right? Two days too many, more like…

Darcy staggered forward on week legs, and Clint rushed to meet her, catching her in his arms just in time for her to start sobbing, all of the emotional turmoil catching up with her. The birdshifter pulled her closer and carded his hands through her hair, gently preening her. 

“What happened, piccola passerotta?” He asked her gently. In the background she could hear Natasha taking charge of the situation, telling Steve to take Barnes to the infirmary and watch over him and instructing FRIDAY to contact Tony.

“I…” Darcy trailed off, her mind hazy. Her breathing picked up; she was distressed that she couldn’t answer this simple question. The whole thing hadn’t been that bad, had it? Sure, she had been scared for her life at first, but she’d been fine for the rest of it. So why was she crying?

“Shh, it’s okay passerotta…” Clint soothed, wrapping his arm more securely around her. “Let’s start off easy, okay? Can you tell me a little about what happened in the kitchen?”

With the bird shifters careful prompting, Darcy started explaining what had happened, telling him about the altercation in the kitchen, the chase through the building, and fainting in the safe room only to wake up in Barnes’ rooms.

“And what then, лапочка?” Came Natasha’s gentle voice. Darcy relaxed a little more as she felt the woman's arms fold around her. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Darcy furrowed her brows. “He fed me. He swaddled me in blankets. He… protected me?” The young woman looked up at Natasha, looking for answers that the red head did not have. “He was taking care of me…”

Natasha met Clints eyes and they communicated silently for a moment before Clint started gently guiding Darcy away, promising the security and comfort of his floor. Natasha remained, puzzling over what Darcy had told them.

This was strange behavior for Barnes. Natasha didn’t know what exactly had caused the suppression of his conscious mind, but a feral was a feral was a feral. There were expected behaviors for this kind of thing, though it depended on the type of animal they shifted to.

The response for a canid would typically be an increased drive to hunt/eat and mate, and they would become incredibly territorial. 

It was unlike a canid to not simply take when in this mindset. Was this a different variant of the drug? Did Barnes have more control over his inner animal?

Natasha didn’t know, but she was worried about how situation was developing.

And especially concerned about how it would affect Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, i learned that Hawkeye is fluent in ASL, English, and Italian!
> 
> I am so sorry that this took so long- college is out for the summer, so I haven't been able to have lunch with Gem, which is when I do most of my writing. I'm also struggling with trying to figure out what I want to do with my life and which major is right for that, so thats fun....
> 
> I have some nebulous ideas of what is coming next, but I welcome any ideas! Who knows- they might inspire me to write more quickly!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Mickey_la for their advice!

This was bad. It was really, really bad.

Steve had left him to sort out his thoughts hours ago, and Bucky was still pacing agitatedly. The last several days were blurry, but memories were slowly filtering through his mind, a fragmented jumble of images, scents, and sounds. 

He could remember running through the tower, chasing a sweet scent. He had some faint recollection of carrying fruit and cheese into his bedroom, and liberating art supplies from Steve’s rooms. And, most importantly, he remembered Darcy. 

His thoughts focused on her face. Had she been scared? In pain? He had snatches of her wincing in discomfort with no identifiable wounds. He had massaged her, hadn’t he? He could still feel her soft, warm flesh under his palms.

He  _ knew _ memories weren’t objective. He probably understood that better than anyone he knew, with his struggle to reclaim his past. His impressions of the past several days were tinted by his more primal mindset, and he couldn’t let that affect his analysis. He had kidnapped her, and he couldn’t forget that.

But he also couldn’t remember.

 

Darcy felt exhausted, despite the fact that she hadn’t moved from the couch all day. Not for lack of trying, but Clint and Natasha seemed determined to coddle her, as if making up for their absence in her time of need. Every time she tried to get up and do something for herself, they settled her back down and said she needed to rest, that she was in shock.

Was this what shock felt like? If so, it was weirdly similar to exasperation.

In the aftermath of New Mexico, there had been so much going on and then suddenly nothing. She remembered waiting with Jane on the roof, watching for the lights of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge- no, the Bifrost. Waiting for Thor to come back to Jane, like he promised. She remembered getting drunk on the roof with Jane after a week, yelling at the sky and trying to fill the numbness in her chest, the world suddenly feeling so much bigger.

She had met  _ aliens _ . What did the political quagmire in the Middle East matter when there were aliens with the ability to level a small town on a whim? 

She remembered watching a portal open over New York, watching as an extraterrestrial army poured out, eyes glued to the small television in the middle of nowhere, Norway. Tromsø, technically, but the point stood.

She remembered the Aether, the mad rush to place the tech-sticks that Erik and Jane had thrown together- teleportation or something- and the monstrosity of a ship over Greenwich. 

She remembered the numbness after. Going through the motions of her life while trying to reconcile the experience. 

Was that shock?

It was, wasn’t it?

This wasn’t anything like this. 

Darcy felt stunned by what had happened, and was still struggling to fully understand it, but it hadn’t been traumatic after the first chase. He had been kind to her, in her weird wolfy way. 

Was this what Stockholm syndrome felt like?

Darcy palmed her phone as she stood up, calling out that she was going to the bathroom as Clint hurried over. She had no illusions about hiding what she had in her hands, but she hoped that if she looked natural enough, he wouldn’t question it. 

**Stockholm syndrome** ,  _ psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands. _

That's what the Britannica website said. She could trust the Encyclopedia Britannica, right? Barnes hadn’t made any demands, and hadn’t seemed to have an agenda other than taking care of her. That meant she was fine, right?

What about Wikipedia?

Generally speaking, Stockholm syndrome consists of " _ strong emotional ties that develop between two persons where one person intermittently harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other _ ."

Barnes was intimidating, that was certainly true, but he hadn’t really done it on purpose. She supposed, if she saw him on the street and didn’t know his history, he might look like a regular guy with a higher than average muscle to fat ratio. There had been no harassment, beatings, threats, or abuse. Only food and comforts and that love letter. 

That meant she was fine, right? Or of sound mind, anyway.

She’d had plenty of time to think about it, and had come to the conclusion that Barnes had been working off of the instinct to protect his pack. The bad guys had come and triggered him, and she was the only potential pack member around, so it made sense that he’d fixate on her for any care-taking tendencies. 

It had been strange, but she’d decided that she would be kind enough to overlook it in favor of returning to their regularly scheduled program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at school again, and Gem and I have a long period in the middle of the day where neither of us have class, so we should start writing more again!  
> I have decided to work towards a degree in Visual Communications Design!  
> A little bit of history:  
> I was in First Year Honors Engineering my freshman year, but I decided that I didn't really like having to do intense equations for testing stress and strain on bridges, and I didn't like physics- I just wanted to create things  
> I then spent two years in Industrial Design, which is basically designing consumer products, but I didn't pass portfolio review and I wasn't sure it was right for me anyway.
> 
> I have a lot of interests, like writing, crocheting, and jewelry making (thank you to Missingartist96 for saying I should be in creative writing!)  
> I just didn't want to choose to major in something I enjoy doing and have it turn a hobby into a chore.  
> I'm halfway through my first day of classes, and my prof for my design class says we'll be doing a lot with typography- I can't wait!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Tisiphone, you were full of so many good questions!
> 
> Fun Fact: According to the Marvel 616 wiki, Steve Rogers is from Brooklyn Heights

Jane returned on a Saturday. 

The older woman had offered to come back sooner, but Darcy insisted that she stay at the lab for the full duration- it wasn’t every day that someone got time with the Hubble Space Telescope, after all, even if you were a renowned astrophysicist. And really, Darcy wanted a little more time before being subjected to Janes particular brand of coddling. 

She hadn’t actually wanted to tell Jane about the entire affair until after the scientist had come home, but as soon as her phone was retrieved from the safe room, Darcy knew that her plan was never going to work. It had been such a good plan, too. So full of potential. ~~_Just like her._~~ But she had forgotten one small but vital variable:

Darcy was a millennial. 

Darcy was a millennial, and Jane was very aware of that fact.

She was never far from her phone for any length of time, and the voicemails from Jane had grown increasingly frantic as her calls went unanswered. Hell, the older woman had been prepared to pack up and haul ass back to the tower to rescue Darcy from whatever was going on by the time Darcy finally called her back. Or to avenge her, if rescue wasn’t an option.

Really, Jane would make such a good Avenger. She could probably kill someone with her brain, if she tried hard enough. Or just open a black hole in the middle of their small intestine.

She had planned on telling her a carefully edited version of the events- not lying per se, but glossing over some of the less pertinent details. Like the fact that she had been scared for her life and had been in close quarters with a man that had a rumored kill count in the hundreds. But Jane knew her too well and managed to, slowly but surely, work it out of her. 

Come to think of it, Jane could also be an excellent interrogator. She could easily slide into the role of confidant and fellow jaded citizen of the world, commiserating with scorned citizens turned criminals about how the science community had ridiculed her work for years. But Darcy knew Jane in turn, and had managed to talk the woman down from her crusade to utterly destroy the man formerly known as James Buchanan Barnes. Unaltered human or not, Jane Foster was terrifying when on a rampage.

Honestly, given how passionate she could be about her  _ Science! _ , she was terrifying when not on a rampage as well… Now that Darcy thought about it, she realized that Jane could easily take over the world, what with her brain and sheer determination. Luckily for the world, she was too dedicated to her  _ Science! _ to bother with things like ruling humanity. 

So they were at it again: Jane and Darcy against the world- or worlds, as the case may be. Brilliant astrophysicist and her intern-turned-assistant working together on unraveling the secrets of the universe and how to transverse it. 

It sounded a lot more interesting than it actually was. Most of their time was spent in the now state-of-the-art lab provided at Stark Tower. Jane would oscillate between furiously writing equations on any surface that would stay still for long enough and thinking up new machines to track her anomalies. Darcy spent most of her days inputting data, writing code to analyze that data, taking down the specs Jane wanted for her machines so she could cajole Tony into building them, and, occasionally, correcting Jane’s math when the older woman got too tired to remember simple algebra. 

It was good work. Fulfilling work. Groundbreaking work. 

It was also long days in front of a computer screen and wrestling with making sense of Jane’s genius- and with the influx of data from Jane’s trip, Darcy really didn’t have time to worry about Barnes and his strange feral incident and how he was being weird and maybe possibly avoiding her.

It wasn’t even on her radar. Not even a little bit.

Really.

But as the days passed, Darcy found her mind wandering towards a certain steel eyed ex-HYDRA prisoner turned assassin. Who just so happened to have a metal arm.

He really was being weird. 

Considering his past, it seemed unreasonable to expect him to conform to routines and social norms, but Barnes had curated his own pattern of behavior, coming out into the common room when he had good days, and staying away on bad days. But she hadn’t seen him in over a week, something that she was pretty sure had never happened.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, today has been rough... I was going to have lunch with Gem today, but I ended up having to go to the student health center on campus because of my asthma. They couldn't find anything wrong, but I was obviously struggling, so they gave me a course of oral steroids to take. Fast forward to later, and I'd been talking to my RA about exactly how mandatory was a mandatory fire drill, telling him that I was having difficulty breathing and didn't think it would be a good idea to be moving around and going outside, which was sure to cause problems(nevermind the fact that its scheduled for 10:15 at night, when i could be sleeping instead of putting pants on and going up and down stairs). So two of the other RA-type people came and knocked on my door, and as soon as I got up to open it, my asthma got worse. Which, of course, caused me to panic a little, since not being able to breathe is kind of a horrible experience all around, and we called some EMTs to check me over and ended up going to the ER... Just like at the student health center, there didn't seem to be anything wrong, so they gave me something to calm me down.....  
> In other news, i'm in the market for a new pair of lungs...
> 
> real talk, though, this chapter was originally part of a larger one with both bucky and darcy being featured as they dealt with the aftermath, but Bucky just had so much to say, and I decided i'd post the section that I have...
> 
> I also have a fair amount of the plot outlined and written up, so this now has a direction!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew that I had already dedicated one chapter to you, but I didn’t realize I’d done it twice- oops :P… never mind that- three times the charm!  
> This chapter is dedicated to Mickey_la- thank you for the offer of your lungs, though i’m afraid i’m going to have to decline- i’m not sure what exactly that would violate, HIPAA or the geneva conventions, but i’m pretty sure it isn’t allowed  
> Also thanks to Mickey_la for my new OPT: Becky and Chain. The pairing of typos that is, inandofitself, a typo
> 
> There is an important poll at the bottom chapter notes- make sure to check it out!

No matter what Stevie said, Bucky wasn’t avoiding Darcy. 

Hand to God- and shouldn’t that mean more since he only had one of them- may the Lord strike him down, he wasn’t. Or maybe let Thor strike him down, Bucky wasn’t really sure where he stood on the matter of a ‘higher power,’ or whatever the kids were calling it these days.

Avoiding implied that he didn’t want to see her, and that wasn’t the case at all. Bucky would absolutely love to see Darcy, with her beautiful hair and her sense of humor and her sparkling eyes and plush lips and curves and skin and- he was getting off track. Taking the scenic view, with her beautiful smile and- no, it wasn’t the time for daydreaming.

Yes, Bucky would love to see Darcy, but he didn’t want  _ her _ to be subjected to  _ him _ . He couldn’t bring himself to do that to her, not after everything he’d done already. Steve had tried to alleviate some of his guilt by showing him the tapes and pointing out how he’d never actually hurt her, but Bucky was fully aware that you didn’t need to injure someone to cause harm. He had essentially attacked her in her own home and then kidnapped her. You didn’t just get over that and move on. 

And when Bucky had made the mistake of saying that out loud, Steve had argued that the drug had caused it, and it wasn’t his fault. As if that magically made it any better.

Besides, he also had to contend with the- what was it that Banner called the Hulk? ‘The Other Guy’? Yeah, him.

The hit on the head- or, as Natasha had jokingly called it, ‘cognitive recalibration’- had given Bucky back the control over his own body. He was thankful for that, he really was, but he was by no means back to normal. It had been anything but a smooth or gradual transition, more akin to falling several feet and slamming down into an unpadded chair. Not that he had ever done that. More than once.

He had initially been stunned at finally being alone in his head for the first time in over 70 years, but as the hours passed, he realized he wasn’t quite as alone as he had  _ hoped _ thought.

And he probably wouldn’t ever be again. 

When your head is constantly a jumble of noise, anything quieter feels like silence, but that, that  _ thing _ was still there, in the back of his mind.

Shifters could be born, but they could also be made, and he’d been made and unmade by HYDRA that he couldn’t remember when he started to have company in his head. It hadn’t been that bad, at first. Just a collection of instincts at the back of his mind, but it hadn’t stayed that way, growing over time into a consciousness all its own, ready to ruin his life every full moon.

He hated it. The wolf had been HYDRA’s creation, implanted into his head, his body, and, he suspected, into his very soul as the scientists and mages tore away what made him human and replaced it with a monster. They hadn’t had the decency to do it the normal way, either, there was no bite, no sire, and barely even any blood. He thinks he can remember blood dripping down his cheek from trying to hold in his screams, but there was no sensation of biting or tearing flesh to ground him, only horror as something foreign and wrong invaded the center of his being. 

HYDRA, in their arrogance, had eschewed the normal way of making a supernatural army and twisted the magical virus into a scourge of their own design. According to the nauseatingly impersonal reports he had found, their main goal hadn’t even been to turn him into a shifter. They had wanted a convenient place to anchor the programming and brainwashing, and what better place than that grey area between man and monster? The no-man's-land between the two opposing forces.

His wolf had been born out of necessity but raised on a diet of violence and gore. He dreaded to know what it would do if allowed to run free.

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he had already seen that, and nobody had gotten hurt that didn’t deserve it. He ignored it.

Everything had been fine. It was the morning of the new moon, so his human half had still been in charge, his animalistic counterpart all but locked away. Then came that day  ~~_ that will live in infamy _ ~~ , those 24 or so hours that seemed so distant now but vivid at the same time, like a dream.

Two days. Two fucking days, only 48 hours, half of which was spent unconscious, was enough time to flip his entire life on its side. He felt so lost and alone while still being stifled by his constant and unwelcome companion. But he- no, it- hadn’t been unwelcome, had it? Under the anodyne influence of the drug, he and the wolf had worked together, the wolf in charge but with Bucky giving his input. 

It had been so easy. There was no loathing or struggle for control, only a sort of unity, like two circles almost entirely overlapping on a venn diagram.

The thought of it made him sick.

It had been that drug- it wasn’t him. He hadn’t given it to the beast.

The wolf was now fighting him continuously, never giving him any kind of reprieve, and it was only getting stronger. 

Or was he getting weaker? His therapist said he wasn’t fighting as hard, since he had a taste of what the wolf would do if he got control. That he was conceding the fight.

He didn’t like that notion, it felt too much like surrender. The beast inside of him was HYDRA. They had created it and shaped it and unleashed it upon an endless list of targets that he couldn’t even call to mind, only tasting blood in his mouth when he tried to remember. Never mind its role in anchoring the Winter Soldier into his psyche.

Yes, that- that  _ thing _ inside of him would only wreak havoc if allowed to roam freely. No matter how ‘innocent’ it seemed in the tapes, it was a killer and would only destroy everything Bucky held dear. 

He had to maintain control. No matter how tired he was. No matter how rational and gentle and loving or whatever the wolf seemed. He had to keep it locked up inside his head.

For the safety of the world. 

For the team. 

For Steve. 

~~ For Darcy. ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally text from our google doc:  
> Me: Hows that?  
> Gem: *thumbs up* yeeeeee  
> Me: Right?!?!? So cute, yet so angsty
> 
> Gem official word contribution count: 3  
> Gem official grammar contribution: priceless
> 
> I just want to thank you all for your comments, with one addendum: I am very hard to offend, at least when it comes to this! Feel free to word vomit in the comments section and don't worry about how it sounds! The most negative reaction you're likely to get is a tilted head and a bemused 'weird'
> 
> Poll:
> 
> https://goo.gl/forms/DH5H46QyoLOOVbUJ2
> 
> I have some ideas coming up that will bring up Darcy's heritage, though I'll keep mum on what exactly I have in mind. With that, I'd like to get your opinions, and I'll definitely take them into account!  
> Feel free to select as many as you like- Darcy has a long, convoluted, and dubiously possible family tree! (like, for some of the options, how would they even breed...? I'll burn that bridge when I get to it...)
> 
> As the responses come in, I will probably be updating the questions to tailor them to your responses, so feel free to check back after a few hours!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Addie_Lover_of_Stories, thank you so much!
> 
> I made another poll!  
> Keep an eye out in the end notes!

Enough was enough. 

All Darcy had wanted to do was to return to her routine and push her unfortunate encounter of the furry kind to the back of her mind. Was that too much to ask? 

But, no! Bucky fucking Barnes had to decide to take his lapse of reasoning as some kind of personal failing or whatever, and had been hiding in his rooms, throwing her entirely off her mojo. She usually saw him every other day or so. Sometimes every other-other day, if he was having a bad week. They wouldn’t talk, but he would tail Steve around the common areas, part lost duckling, part murderous shadow.

It had been fourteen days since she had last seen the soldier formerly known as Winter. Two fucking weeks. And she wanted answers. 

Darcy started out by looking for Barnes, even though she knew in the back of her mind that she wasn’t going to find him. This was the man that was the monster-under-the-bed of the intelligence community and underworld- the criminal underworld, though she had no doubt that he had a reputation in the afterlife as well. If he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. 

When her search came up predictably empty, she had to make a new plan. Darcy contemplated trying to scry for him but quickly decided that it would be a gross breach of privacy. And anyway, she wasn’t very good at it. Water and she got along well enough, but a third eye was something she lacked. Apparently scrying- or any kind of divination, really- was antithesis to her own innate magic, and whenever she tried she tended to get the strangest outcomes. 

In most branches of magic, you either had the gift or you didn’t. Binary, mutually exclusive options. Trying to force an affinity that simply wasn’t present was an exercise in futility, and it was usually apparent when you didn’t have the gift. The second, third, and fourth sights were no different. 

The head of her familial coven, a woman who also happened to be her grandmother, had tried to teach her, but her mother had quickly put a stop to that line of teaching after realizing how broken her magic had been.

Darcy could still remember taking her first scrying lessons in the room of her grandmother’s house that was always used for coven meetings and all the magic they wrought together. The wood of the workbench, worn smooth over the years, was digging ever so slightly into her knees as she perched on the surface, too small still to reach the scrying bowl properly from the ground, and unable to keep her balance on the wobbly chairs scattered around the room. Her grandmothers’ wizened hands guiding her own to cup around the edge of the bowl to peer within. The soothing lilt of the older woman's voice as she guided Darcy into finding her Sight. 

And how the water in the bowl had failed to form an image for Darcy, instead turning to shifting swirls of blue and gold. Darcy had huffed in disappointment and her grandmother had admonished her for her impatience, telling her that “Gifts such as these do not always appear when you want them to, Bubbala.” And little Darcy had exclaimed that it wasn’t that nothing had appeared, it was that she hadn’t seen anything like her grandmother had described. She should have either seen a recognizable image, or a bowl of water. 

“My Sight is broken!” Darcy had wailed, still at the age where everything was a Big Deal™. Her grandmother had soothed her fears and calmed her down, but Darcy could still remember the way her grandmother's eyes became pinched as Darcy described what she had Seen.

A meeting had been called and while Darcy hadn’t been invited, she just  _ knew _ that they were talking about her, and she had done her best to eavesdrop. 

_ “... father …” _

_ “... Stark …” _

_ “... cursed …” _

_ “That poor child…” _

She hadn’t wanted to hear any more after that, and had cried herself to sleep, convinced that she would never be able to join her mother’s coven, not if her magic was tainted with a curse.

 

Darcy was startled out of her thoughts by a door opening and suddenly remembered why she was down here in the first place.

“Steve!” She called out, marching towards him. “I have a bone to pick your bestie!” Her finger was pointing at him, waving in the air a bit as she moved, and Steve’s eyes were fixed on the tip.

“What did I do?” Came a voice from behind Steve’s broad shoulders. 

\--

It is commonly accepted knowledge that a man in possession of an ex-POW best friend haunted by what was done to and by him would be in want of happiness for said friend.

Steve was sure that Bucky could be happy, if only he got his head out of his ass enough to apologize to his girl- or, at least, the girl that he wanted to be his. 

But, sadly, his best friend hadn’t become any less of a mook in the past 70 years, so here he was, being stared down by a tiny yet terrifying brunette on a warpath.

He had known as soon as he’d met Miss Lewis that she was not to be trifled with, clearly a woman of Peggy’s ilk. 

Bucky always had to make things harder for himself, didn’t he.

\--

Sam Wilson stepped out from behind Steve’s ridiculously proportioned shoulders, looking confused and then a little concerned as he saw the expression on Darcys face. Maybe she had been overdoing it with her murder glare, but she needed the Man With A Plan to take her seriously.

“What-?” Darcy said, suddenly off her game yet again. This was becoming a rather unfortunate pattern. “No, not Dr. Dolittle over there, I was talking about your long lost brother from another mother.”

“Bucky?” Steve said, his posture suddenly turning awkward. “Uh, what about him?” The taller man wouldn’t meet her eyes, a sure sign of guilt if she’d ever seen one.

“Why is he acting weird.” Darcy stated, her tone indicating exactly now not-optional his response was.

“Weird?” 

“Yeah, why is he avoiding me?” Darcy crossed her arms.

“Avoiding you?” Steve warbled back. He looked to Sam for help, but the other superhero really didn’t want to be on the bad side of the resident hedgewitch and hearthkeeper. No sir, no thank you, good day.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” Darcy asked, her eyes narrowing. This was going to get very old very quickly.

“Repeat everything you- wait.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Okay, Bucky isn’t avoiding you.”

For one of the greatest tactical minds in modern history, he sure was bad at lying. Both Darcy and Sam gave him a skeptical look.

“Really, man? That’s what you’re going with?” Sam Wilson was so done with this shit. He did not sign up for this. 

“Look- for a recovering assassin/prisoner of war, Barnes is kind of predictable.” Darcy started, ready to lay everything out on the table in a way Captain Spangles would understand. “On his good days, he is out in about, sometimes in the common room, sometimes in the gym, and I usually see him every couple of days. On his bad days, he will sulk in his rooms or follow you around like a threatening shadow.” Steve furrowed his brows and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Darcy wasn’t done. “It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. What-did I scare him off with our romp through the tower?”

Darcy found that irreverence was key to convincing everyone that you were fine, even if you were still processing on the inside.

Sam gave her a weird look, planning on talking to her about this later. 

Steve just looked flustered.

“I- uh- look, okay, I’ll talk to him.” He promised.

“See that you do.” Darcy retorted imperiously, before huffing again at the entire ordeal, spinning on her heel, and strutting away.

She had  _ Science! _ to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bubbala: A term of endearment, darling.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your responses!  
> This chapter probably would have come out earlier, but Gem had some other stuff she needed to do during our lunch break and couldn't meet me, so I went back to my dorm and worked on *shudders* homework. (just kidding, I actually like what i'm working on, i'd just rather be writing with Gem)
> 
> I made another poll!  
> You guys fave me such a good response that I couldn't resist!
> 
> https://goo.gl/forms/f50yzba0pFKXKJt42
> 
> I get it, you guys really liked the Nymph- so I've decided to accept that as one of her ancestors, and now I'm looking for some other interesting things to fill in her family tree.  
> I structured it so that I can easily add options to some of the questions in response to your answers, so the poll might change over time- if you find yourself missing this story, feel free to go back and see if the questions have changed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Biblioworm, Varda, and Karen Clooney, for their fantastic insight on the poll! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who participated!
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGERS: there are some potential triggers in this chapter, see end notes for details

Bucky could feel a headache coming on. It was happening more and more often as the full moon approached, the foreign presence inside of him becoming stronger. 

Fuck, but he could really use a drink- but there wasn’t much that could get him intoxicated and even less on this planet, since he doubted Thor had left a stash of the Asgardian mead. And he couldn’t help but shudder at the idea of lowering his inhibitions and opening up to the possibility of allowing the wolf free reign. 

The wolf had been feeding him such tantalizing whispers of Darcy and how sweet and soft she would feel in his arms. The beast had somehow learned  to make its voice blend in with all of the noise of his head, sounding like a natural fragment of thought instead of an interloper.

And he was so tired of fighting. Some days it seemed like all he had ever done was fight. First in Brooklyn, dragging that skinny little punk out of one fight or another, then in Europe, where he’d sit in trees for hours in his snipers nest and, occasionally, punch nazis in the face, only interrupted by a brief stint in Azzano. After that, of course, he’d been captured and it was nazi’s punching him instead. His life had basically been a downward spiral into chaos and bloodshed.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He just wanted a minute of rest. A brief respite, that was all. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently yes, since the next thing he knew, he was prowling the familiar hallways of the tower. Bucky tried to stop, tried to go back to his rooms, but he quickly realized he wasn’t in control.

What was happening? 

Had the wolf taken control? 

This was even worse than his worst case scenario. He had painstakingly planned for the inevitable moment that he would lose to the beast, knowing he had no hope of maintaining control when the moon was at its absolute fullest. 

But this was a surprise, he hadn’t been expecting the wolf to be able to break free so soon, and now he was loose in the tower.

He- no, the wolf in man’s clothes, pulled in a long breath through his mouth and nose, drawing in the scent of honey and magic, sweet on his tongue. Bucky wanted to retch as he realized what he was hunting.

He prowled into the labs and found the object of his attentions hard at work, typing dutifully at the computer. Bucky let out a low growl, feeling the reverberations deep in his throat. No- that wasn’t right, it was the wolf growling, wasn’t it? Bucky was just a prisoner in his own mind.

Darcy looked up at the noise. She started to smile in greeting, but a furrow quickly formed on her brow and she looked at him in concern. She looked so beautiful like this, her hair slightly frizzy and her clothes rumpled from a long day of data entry. 

“Bucky?” In control or not, he luxuriated in the sound of his name falling from her lips. “Is everything oka-” He didn’t let her finish, moving in a flash to wrap her in his arms before bearing her to the ground. Her wide blue eyes looked up at him in shock. 

He growled again and shoved his face into the base of her neck, licking and nuzzling the skin there before moving down to her chest, eager to taste where her magic was closest to the surface. Her shirt was in the way, but that didn’t matter, the cloth barely offered any resistance as he ripped it. 

There, an unobstructed view of her lush breasts and access to her sternum. He stuck his face there, too, mouthing at the skin and scraping his teeth gently along her skin. He wanted to taste her magic, feel it flowing over him and wrapping him up in its loving embrace. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, feeling the blood and magic along his tongue. He wanted to mix it with his very being so that they could never be separated. 

He wanted her to be his, in every single possible way. 

But Darcy was more than just her magic, and her breasts were demanding his attention. Her breath hitched as he took one nipple into his mouth, and he couldn’t help the low rumble of pleasure. He was a good mate, seeing to Darcy’s needs. He felt her small hands on his shoulders and grinned, happy that Darcy was enjoying herself enough to encourage him. 

Or maybe she was pushing him away? But why? Maybe she wanted to kiss her?

He switched sides, suckling at the other nub as his hand reached up to play with the first, now glistening and wet from his mouth. He couldn’t wait until she was full with his pups- their pups, and milk would flow from her to help them grow big and strong. She would be such a good mother, he thought.

But there were certain requirements that had to be met before that could happen- namely, the actual act of mating. 

He could do that.

He moved down her soft belly, pressing kisses and rubbing his cheeks against her. He settled himself between her legs and looked at her torso, pleased to see small bruises from his mouth and red marks from his stubble. Good, he thought to himself. These were the only marks Darcy should ever have on her body.

He glanced back down, eagerly divesting her of her pants and gazing down at her, feeling himself throbbing with desire. He wanted so badly to be inside her, but he knew he couldn’t rush this. She had to be ready.

With that goal in mind, he lowered himself between her legs and got to work.

Tonight, he would feast.

\---

  
  
  
  
  


\---

Bucky jolted up with a gasp, whirling around and trying to get his bearings. 

He was in his room, settled precariously on the couch, and he was alone. 

Had that really happened?

“FRIDAY?” He asked, needing to make sure. “What is Darcy’s status?” 

“Miss Lewis is in the labs and is perfectly fine.” 

He sighed with relief. 

It was just a dream.

.

In the back of his mind, something stirred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS: Some non-con, but it isn't very explicit, and it may or may not all be a dream.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who participated! Gem was super flattered at those of you that mentioned her!
> 
> I will not be doing a poll in this chapter, since I think I have worked out most of the nuances.
> 
>  
> 
> I was going to stop right after bucky feasting, and have this chapter and the next posted on the same day (so there wouldn't be a cliff hanger), but that would mean you all would have to wait a couple more days for this...
> 
> Just a heads up- Gem and I have lunch on Mondays and Wednesdays, so those are the days you are most likely to get chapters
> 
> ALSO: mind the new tags, folks.... I may have updated them recently...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Mickey_La, who thanked me for keeping it discrete with the smut.
> 
> There is a very good reason for that-  
> 1) Gem is actually ace, and she usually just skims the racier part of any stories she reads  
> 2) I really just wanted to show Bucky's fear of what would happen if he lost control
> 
> Also thanks to Tisiphone, who left an insightful comment on chapter 13 that inspired me to make up an answer on the spot- I included the information from my response to them in this chapter :P

Sam Wilson did not sign up for this. 

Sam Wilson had signed up to help Captain America save the world from a Nazi cult intent on killing untold numbers of people. 

Sam Wilson very much had not signed up to help a displaced nonagenarian with a resting concerned-dad face cajole a former prisoner of war with a resting murder face into leaving his rooms. 

And yet, here he was. Standing with Steve at the entrance to Bucky’s rooms. 

“Seriously, man, why are we here? Barnes is a grown ass man, he can sort out his own problems.” Even as he said it, Sam knew that Steve wouldn’t be dissuaded. 

“He needs me, Sam.” Steve said, giving Sam that damned hang-dog expression, with an extra dash of earnestness. “He used to be so good with the dames, but he needs my help with it now.”

“Don’t let Darcy catch you calling her a dame,” Sam warned, trying to ignore the absurd notion that  _ Steve _ was in any way adept at talking to women. Steve just huffed and knocked on the door.

“Go away, punk.” Came a voice through the door. Figures, that Barnes would be able to recognize Steve from just his knock. 

This time, Sam knocked, only to be met with the reply of “Buzz off, bird brain.” 

The  _ nerve _ of this man.

Here Sam was, out of the goodness of his heart, trying to help the poor man with his romantic woes and save him from disaster à la Steve, and this is the thanks he gets? Typical.

“Bucky, please, we just want to help,” called Steve. Forget Erskine’s serum-  _ this _ was clearly Steve’s superpower. Guilt tripping without anyone realizing what he was doing. Not even Barnes had the wherewithal to resist him for very long, and he finally opened the door.

“You look like shit.” Sam blurted out. Maybe that was a little blunt, but he wasn’t wrong. Steve gave him a warning look, but couldn’t refute the statement.

The circle under the soldiers eyes could carry everything Natasha bought on a week-long shopping spree- and all of them were intimately familiar with how much the woman could buy, as well as how much it weighed. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair hung limply around his face. His clothing had seen better days as well, creased and stained with sweat. 

Sam didn’t think he had seen Barnes look this bad since they had brought him in from the cold… 

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Steve asked. 

Internally, Sam scoffed. As if they didn’t already know.

“The wolf. It’s so strong.” 

Okay, Sam conceded. Maybe they hadn’t already known.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

He could admit that he didn’t really know too much about shifters in general and Barnes in particular, but he knew that, while Barnes’ situation wasn’t exactly typical, the ‘wolf’ inside wasn’t usually something that could overwhelm the human host. 

Having brushed up on the topic, Sam knew that the ‘wolf’ was just a set of instincts, the strength and present of which waxed and waned with the moon, very rarely able to overpower the will of the human host. To have lasted so long under HYDRA, Barnes had to have had a nigh unbreakable will, only able to be suppressed, not broken. He had to wonder what was happening in his head for Barnes to admit out loud that there was a problem.

Not for the first time, Sam wondered what had been done to this man.

\---

As much as Barnes tried to ignore it, he was not alone in his head. 

Aside from the wolf, there was always the Winter Soldier programming to contend with, not a fully fledged personality, but a form of consciousness in its own right. 

The soldier rarely caused problems, though, only really coming out when he was in danger or summoned by the control words. 

No, the wolf was the real problem, and he wasn’t about to back down anytime soon. 

 

Buchanan- who had enough self-awareness to choose his own prefered name- had gotten a glimpse of what life could be like beyond the structure and control of HYDRA. Normally he would give back control to his human counterpart after the moon waned enough, but not anymore.

Yes, he had gotten a taste of what life could offer, and he wanted more. 

There he had been, feeling on top of the world from having his mate-to-be ensconced within his claimed territory. He had been wooing her in the only way he knew how- learned from an older wolf he had worked with in the past. HYDRA or not, the wolf had been knowledgeable and, if not kind, at least not cruel. The wolf had acted as mentor, taught him about seeking and posturing, the challenge and acceptance, scent marking, denning, proving, wooing, and everything else that came with courting.

It had been a practical lesson, almost, as they paraded before him a seemingly endless supply of bitches loyal to the cause, hoping that one of them would catch his eye as a potential mate, tying him even closer to them. But they’d all had sour or cloying clouds of pheromones that coated his tongue and throat, making him want to retch to get it out, and he had turned up his nose at every last one.

Nothing like Darcy, with her sweet scent of honey and magic and home.

He had shown her that he would follow wherever she would run, that he could catch her and keep her safe. He had shown that he could provide food, shelter, safety, and comfort for her and any pups they had together. He had really been making progress!

And then his human half had to go and ruin it by avoiding her.

Two steps forward, one step back. Wasn’t that how the saying went? 

After the little spider had knocked him loose with that gun, he had been trapped behind an invisible barrier in their mind. More than just the normal barrier of the waning moon- it seemed that Barnes was throwing up his own blocks, preventing Buchanan from talking to him. 

God, but the man was stubborn. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he just wanted Barnes to talk to Darcy, maybe make a little more progress in convincing her to be their girl. But no- Barnes had to lock himself in their rooms and mope. Buchanan didn’t even have the benefit of being able to see the humans thoughts, stuck with just seeing through his eyes.

But Buchanan could be patient, could bide his time. Barnes would run out of energy eventually, and Buchanan would be free. Or, if the man managed to hold him back, he wouldn’t be able to contain him when the wolf was at its strongest. 

Yes, Buchanan had made plans, and he would have to be quick about them, not knowing how long he would be able to maintain control. The wolf form may prove to be a problem, for once, with its lack of opposable thumbs and human vocal cords. 

Things were easier as a wolf, he thought, but he didn’t think Darcy was quite ready for that… 

The problem was that he didn’t know where he stood with her. He must have done something wrong in the den, to make her run from him again without making another declaration of a chase. He would have to up his game. 

Barnes had had some interesting ideas about courting women, from what Buchanan had seen before the barrier went up. Maybe he could take a leaf out of his book, as it were. 

She was human, after all, and she would probably respond better to human tactics. 

Yes, Buchanan would bide his time and plan for every contingency. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed their little taste of Sam Wilson being so done with everyone's shit.
> 
> lol- none of this was really outlined, unlike most of the other chapters... I had a general idea of what was going to happen in the future, and a little bit of background info on the wolf(and a lot of background info on courting), and it kind of all came out in a rush of word vomit over the course of about an hour and a half, and then Gem and I went back and zhooshed it up a bit. 
> 
> A note: There is a storm coming- and that isn't just a reference to Thor. This was originally meant to be a short-ish piece(maybe 30k or so), but the outline has grown into a behemoth, and guys- you don't even know what you're in for... Darcy and Bucky are going to get together, but not before they have gone through the gamut...
> 
> A question: Since this is going to be pretty long, would you like me to split it into a series? This story/arc wouldn't end for a while
> 
>  
> 
> Another note: I made some art! http://lemirabitur.tumblr.com/post/178483906472/some-art-that-i-made-for-my-story-over-on-ao3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof.
> 
> It's been a long month.

The moon shone full over New York.

The wolf burst forth, shaking himself and feeling his fur move with him. He frolicked in happiness then bounded forward, ready to put his plans into action, only to find himself met with a barrier. 

What was this? 

He looked around, searching the memories of his human half in an attempt to identify where he was. 

The hulk room? No matter, Buchanan decided. He could wait.

\---

Darcy needed a break. 

The past couple of weeks had been rough- everybody was acting strangely and she just wanted things to go back to normal.

Jane’s behavior had fluctuated wildly, vacillating between manic analysis of the data from her trip and her own special brand of mother-henning Darcy, which came in the form of giving the younger woman poptarts and trying to hustle her to rest, even when Darcy knew that Jane needed her help. Really, the woman could hardly take care of herself, she shouldn’t be trying to take care of Darcy as well. She was fine. And even if she wasn’t, poptarts weren’t going to help.

Darcy just wanted things to go back to normal- or whatever passed for normal when you were living in a phallic monument to a billionaire ego, with roommates including a literal alien, a former carnie, a fluffy-haired Dr. Jekyll and his big green Mr. Hyde, and your choice of two world-war-2 relics, both frozen for your convenience. On second thought, she wasn’t sure that she knew what ‘normal’ really meant in this context. She hadn’t been here that long.

But she’d been in residence long enough to know where all of the good shopping spots were, and that’s exactly where she was going.

She figured that if at least 50 percent of her day was spent on errands for Jane, she could justify the whole trip as a work expense. As paid as her position might now be, she still had college loans to pay for and they had been growing to a frightening degree over the last several years of following her brainiac best friend around. 

First on the list was duct tape. Despite now being an award-winning astrophysicist funded by the likes of Tony Stark, Jane still insisted on using good old fashioned adhesive backed fabric to keep most of her machines together, and who was Darcy to stop her? 

After that was a new pair of shoes and maybe a jacket. Both had been casualties of an incident involving Tony and dubious fluids of unknown origins- the shoes were ruined and the jacket could maybe be salvaged by a good stint at the dry cleaners, but Tony had handed her a company card and told her to go buy herself replacements and a little something extra for the trouble.

Really, who was she to question the generosity of her benefactor? Besides, she found some poetic justice in using his company’s money to exact her sweet, sweet revenge. It may have been an accident, and he may be paying for replacements, but that didn’t mean that he was off the hook. Mark her words- Tony Stark would remember her wrath the next time he thought about doing something stupid.

She usually felt a bit bereft when she left the tower, feeling like she was leaving her haven and entering the chaotic outside world. 

It made sense- her magic had saturated the avengers-dedicated floors and labs, making the entire top of the tower her hearth-domain. Leaving the protective barrier she had erected around her space made her feel naked and vulnerable. And Darcy didn’t  _ do _ vulnerable.

But this time was different. She felt somewhat at ease as she went about her business, as if she had a little part of the tower with her. Maybe she was just becoming more comfortable in New York? Maybe her magic had settled? She hadn’t left the tower in a while, so it made sense that she hadn’t noticed. It was nothing to worry about no matter what her inner Natasha said. Inner Natasha was just paranoid. 

Still, better safe than dead, as both the real and imagined Natasha had told her countless times. Darcy was expedient as she went about her day, keeping her heads down and blending into crowds as much as possible while avoiding the hands of strangers. Who knows what they might have on them, be it weapons or germs.  

Any serenity she might have felt in the morning had dissipated by the end of the day, and she could feel a prickling on her neck, like eyes were staring at her from every direction. 

It’d been real.

It’d been fun.

But it hadn’t been real fun, and Darcy was ready to head back to the safety of the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short fic. 
> 
> If you guys could only see the outline, you would probably wiggle off your chair in happiness, but also look at me in pity, going 'oh, honey, no....'
> 
> i have so much stuff coming, you guys don't even know.... but the nice thing about planning ahead is that I can foreshadow..... :P


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to BMiller, for spotting some of my foreshadowing....
> 
> Some, but not all :P

On the morning after the full moon, Buchanan was able to force himself into his man form. The moon’s pull still gave him enough strength to suppress his human counterpart, but, to his benefit, no one else in the tower seemed to be aware. 

As long as he maintained control over his eyes, he could pass as Barnes. It took a lot of effort to maintain the- what had he heard someone say? The ‘steely-blue’ of his natural eyes. It was much easier to settle for a middle ground between the blue and gold- a muddy kind of green. So long as nobody looked too closely, he would be fine. 

Of course, who should he meet as he was released from the Hulk room but Steven Fuckin’ Rogers. Of course, the man that knew him the best would be waiting right outside. 

Buchanan could admit that he had a bit of a soft spot for mixed-inheritance Brooklyn-born punk. Back when he was young and fully human, they had been brothers in all things, from the back alleys of New York all the way to war-torn Europe. As much as Barnes might hate to acknowledge it, Buchanan was created from him, and that meant that this blond dope was pack. Instinct cried for him to tell Rogers everything, to bring him in on the plan, but HYDRA’s modifications, both magical and mundane, had released him from those bonds, no longer a slave to his hindbrain. 

“I’m fine, Stevie, just tired.” He said, waving off the others concern. He made his ways to his rooms and Rogers didn’t follow. 

Excellent. 

He had spent the entire night planning, and now was the time for action.

\---

Jane liked to consider herself the resident expert on all things Darcy. They’d been working together for 5 years, for Tesla’s sake- even if they weren’t friends they’d know at least something about each other.

But, as the case would be, they were, in fact, friends. The best of friends. Jane was closer to Darcy than she could ever remember being in her life. 

And while Jane might not be the most emotionally competent person around, she definitely wasn’t the worst in the tower. And she knew an avoidance tactic when she saw one. 

Jane had been known to bury herself in her work after one too many doses of condescension from the scientific community. She didn’t know if her habits were rubbing off on her assistant, but Darcy was doing the same thing. She was diving head first into the data to avoid thinking about ‘the incident’.

Jane tsked internally and shook her head. She couldn’t exactly give Darcy a half day, since it was already past 5, but she could give her intern-turned-assistant something a little different to do tomorrow. 

Darcy needed a break, and Jane knew just how to give her one.

One could never have too much duct tape, after all.

\---

Buchanan wasn’t spying.  He was patrolling the vents to ensure there was no one in them and that the area was secure. That the vents in question happened to be surrounding the labs that Darcy worked in was pure coincidence, really.

He had only been  ~~ following ~~ shadowing her for two days, and already he was identifying a routine. Her alarm would go off at 8, and she would hit snooze but get up before it went off again. After getting dressed and doing her makeup, she would prepare a meal for herself and Doctor Foster. The meal would be brought down to the labs, where Doctor Foster would already be working. Darcy would then get to work on data entry or copying down the scientists numerous illegible scribbles. 

It was just another way in which Darcy was incredibly smart and impressive.  _ He _ certainly couldn’t read the chicken scratch...

She would take a break for a late lunch, cajoling Doctor Foster into eating at least a few bites, and then get back to work. Between 6 and 7, she would leave to prepare food before hustling her charge out of the lab to eat it. She would then take a shower, washing off the grime of the day. Buchanan tried to be a gentleman, even while keeping watch from the vents. He kept his eyes averted from her naked form, but he couldn’t help but stare longingly at her silhouette on the shower curtain, wishing he could join her. 

He had to content himself with her outline and her heavenly scent, filling the room with her honey, magical scent, along with- what was it? Queen Anne's Lace? After drying herself off, she would change into her night clothes, and read a little in bed before going to sleep.

It was strangely compelling to watch her sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall, counted her deep, even breaths. 

Darcy’s alarm does not go off at 8 as is usual, and so she doesn’t wake up and start preparing a meal for her and Dr. Foster. Buchanan fidgets a little in the vent above her bedroom, indecisive as to what this could mean. He checks his cellular device and sees that yes, all systems are functional in the tower. 

Two hours past her usual waking time, Darcy stirs, her breathing picking up as she starts to shift. A hand reaches up to rub her face 

_ Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand _

_ That I might touch that cheek! _

Where had that come from? Buchanan didn’t know, but he had to agree. He would love to be able to touch the beautiful woman below him. In due time, he promised himself.

After about fifteen minutes of movement, she finally stretched, rolls over, and opened her eyes. Buchanan could feel his breath catch as his eyes met the glorious blue, feeling as if she was looking right into the heart of him even though he logically knew that he was shrouded in darkness.

That same voice from before snorted. What use does a wolf have for logic.

Finally, a full two and a half hours after she would normally be down in the lab, she was dressed, fed, and seemingly ready to start her day.

Buchanan trailed after Darcy as she got ready to leave her suite, using his considerable skills to silently traverse the ductwork. 

His breathing sped up as he saw her gathering up an umbrella while completely passing over the bag she usually took with her to the lab. Was she leaving the Tower? She couldn’t leave the tower! She was safe in the tower! He needed to keep her safe!

Bursting into action, he made his way to his floor, rushing to his bedside drawer and rifling through the contents. There! A small earpiece that he had swiped from Stark’s workshop. Slotting it into his ear, he addressed the everpresent AI. 

“Initiate Mission.” He stated.

“What mission would you like to initiate, Sergeant Barnes?” Came a lilting voice. Buchanan didn’t see himself as Sergeant Barnes, but his human self didn’t either. That carefree man was long dead, and they had both adopted the name like an ill-fitting jacket.

Besides, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with informing the AI that Bucky wasn’t the one in charge. Who knows what kind of protocols it had in place? 

Barnes, with Buchanan listening silently, had been told of FRIDAY’s predecessor, JARVIS, who was said to be incredibly intelligent and adept at anticipating the needs of the inhabitants of the tower. Luckily for him, FRIDAY wasn’t nearly as developed, and had no way of determining that he was a wolf in a man’s skin.

“Initiate Mission: Safeguard Intended. Sub-mission: Keep Pace.” He had taken the time yesterday afternoon to hard-program several protocols into the AI’s mainframe, and now it was paying off.

“Mission Initiated. Miss Lewis is currently in the elevator heading for the Lobby.” 

Buchanan sighed. He hated the elevators. He hated crowds. He hated leaving the tower. 

But for Darcy, he would do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mira: bucky barnes has no chill  
> Gem: Bucky barnes needs no chill. He had quite enough of that, thank you very much
> 
>  
> 
> You guys don't even know what's coming to you....
> 
> Edit: Curse you, AO3, for always taking away my strikethroughs 
> 
> Anybody got any thoughts as to wolfy shenanigans?


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to ProbablytheLadyoftheLake:
> 
> I didn't really understand what John Mulaney noise you were trying to articulate, but I appreciate the sentiment :)  
> So does Gem.

Following Darcy was easy. For all that she was clever, Buchanan had years of experience on her.

He took great pleasure in watching over her, but couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong.

He had begun the day on rooftops, surveying the crowd from a distance, but changed to tailing her through the streets after only an hour, with the feeling of eyes making the hair on his arms stand on end. His instincts had never been wrong, not about threats like this.

He wanted to be closer to her in case something happened, but nothing did.

He had tried scanning the crowds around her, trying to determine what was setting off his instincts, but his eyes kept straying back to Darcy, and his hypervigilance was beginning to stir the Soldier from his hibernation.

Best not to disturb him, Buchanan thought, and went back to focusing on his future mate.

 

That night, Buchanan transformed into his wolf form again, now at the last night of a moon-forced change. He was ready for a night of scent-marking his rooms and then napping, but, alas, it was not to be.

Darcy had been outside of the safety of familiar territory _all day_. It had been the most horrible day he’d had post-HYDRA, constantly looking over his shoulder as he tailed her, unsure if his worry was justified or a case of unfounded paranoia.

 _Just because you aren’t paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you._ Hadn’t he heard Darcy say that? Better safe than sorry…

He paced restlessly around his quarters before he wasn’t able to stand it- the need to find her and reassure himself of her well being was overpowering, and he didn’t much feel like trying to resist.

The door was dealt with in a matter of moments, and then he was racing through the halls and up the stairs. If he remembered correctly, Darcy had originally been only 2 levels above him, sharing a floor with Thor and Jane. But apparently a god’s body also meant a god’s appetite, for both food and physical pleasure, and she had opted to move up two more levels to get away from their racket.

Too far away, really. Maybe he could kick out Steve and invite her to his floor, if she didn’t want to move in with him right away.

He slowed as he passed the floor housing the two assassins, but soon enough made it onto Darcy’s level. As he approached her door, he gave a grin that a wolf’s mouth wasn’t meant to make, and put his mouth to the doorknob.

Much to his consternation, the handle of her door was round, and he had a much harder time getting a grip to turn it.

He prevailed, however, and eventually entered her quarters.

\---

Darcy was exhausted. She had spent all day running around the city, unable to relax under the attention of a strange presence.

As soon as she had re-entered her wards, she felt revitalized, as if a part of her had been left in the tower, waiting to rejoin her upon her return. She could finally relax, no longer under the scrutiny of whatever had been watching her all day.

Alone at last.

When she dropped off the duct tape and other supplies, Jane waved her off, telling her that it was a weekend and she wasn’t actually obligated to work. So she brought the rest of her purchases to her rooms and sighed, tiredly making her way to the shower. Under the spray, she felt safe, like no one could hurt her. Not alone, per se, but protected.

After a light dinner, she slid into bed, content to read for a couple of hours before going to bed. Or maybe she would check out tumblr, who could really say?

Darcy went to sleep in comfort, content in her solitude.

 

Darcy did not wake up in solitude.

Darcy woke up in comfort, but she was very much not alone.

There was a heavy weight across her chest, and a concentration of warmth along her right side. The warmth was nice enough, but there was something cold pressing against the bottom of her right arm, and another spot of chilly dampness at the back of her neck.

She blinked and took her first full breath of the day, only to get a mouthful of fur.

Instinctively spitting it out, she let out a noise of protest, waking the beast beside her.

Was this Barnes? Or had some other creature crept in during the night. She wasn’t sure which option she prefered.

Honestly, she would have _prefered_ waking up alone…

He was pressed against her right side, right foreleg laid across her chest, right hind leg wrapped around her leg. His face was nestled between her jaw and shoulder, with his snout buried in her hair and one huge ear flopping across her face and into her mouth.

That couldn’t be comfortable, could it? Having her breath blowing into his ear?

_Humph! Serves him right..._

The wolf nuzzled his head further into her neck, snuffling lightly. At least, she assumed it was a boy. It was Barnes, right? Not some other strange wolf that had managed to gain entrance to her private quarters in a very secure tower?

When the licking started, Darcy decided enough was enough and shuffled away, putting some distance between their faces.

The wolf panted at her, golden eyes sleepy but content. He would be kind of cute, if he weren’t an interloper…  And if his teeth weren’t so huge and white and sharp and in her face. His tongue lolled out as he gazed at her. Darcy gazed back, letting her eyes take it all in and- woah! Yep, that was a boy. The wolf was definitely a boy, no doubt about it.

 _Put that thing away!_ She could hear the voice of one of her old aunties in her ear.

Part of her was filled with morbid curiosity, wondering at the differences between man and beast and wolf, but the other part- the majority, was irritated from waking up to a mouthful of fur from an uninvited guest.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She asked. The wolf cocked his head at her adorably- no, Darcy! He was an intruder! Intruders aren’t allowed to be adorable!

He made to step towards her, and she leapt off the bed in response.

“No!” She cried. “No touching! I did not consent to this!”

He whined and his ears went back. Her resolve wavered momentarily, but if she gave him a free pass, he would start to think that this kind of thing was okay. And this was very far from okay.

He stepped forward again, his paw pressing into the duvet. Why was she up and uncomfortable in the morning cold of the room while he was still on the bed?

“Off the bed.” She said. He just looked at her. “No, come on, I know you can understand me, off the bed.”

For some ungodly reason he seemed to see this as an invitation to come towards her, hopping off the bed happily enough and advancing.

“No!” She said again, throwing up her hands. Just as he came to a stop, the first hints of the morning sun made their way into the room, casting a glow over his fur.

Darcy had seen many magical things in her life, more than most from her upbringing in the Lewis Coven, but nothing could compare to the transformation from wolf to man.

She stared in awe at the change, something that should be so unnatural looking so seamless.

His metal arm was the only disjointed movement, metal plates flapping open and closed as the inanimate metal forced itself to change shape.

She hadn’t even noticed that it hadn’t been a human hand in the first place. The plating on the fingers seemed to have reformed to create a limb with the same placement of shoulder, elbow, wrist, and hand as the other side. Or paw, as the case may be. Her eyes were drawn to it, seeing for the first time that there was no paw or hand on the end, instead a hoof-like club with the same ‘footprint’ as his real paw. It still looked like a weapon.

Bones seemed to warp, contorting in ways that would have left them broken for anyone else but, for Barnes, simply clicking into place with a pop of movement but no sound. His muzzle shortened, ears shrinking along with his teeth and shins as his hips changed shape to support bipedal movement.

His eyes never left hers, the molten gold seeming to stare into the depths of her soul even as the head moved and changed shape.

There seemed to be a brief interlude where he was stuck in a transitional state, somewhere between man and beast. He was balancing on two legs, but hunched, claws still gracing the ends of his finger. The ears had moved down the side of his head and become smaller, still slightly pointed at the tips, his snout still a little longer than could be considered human.

Why had the transformation stopped? Was something wrong? Was something going on that she couldn’t see?

In that brief moment of stillness, she could see that he still had a tail. She couldn’t help but snort. Did all werewolves have a pseudo-furry form?

At the noise, Barnes gave a brief noise somewhere between a growl and a grunt. Were his vocal cords changing? Did everything internal change at the same moment?

Did it hurt?

The fur on his body receded, seeming to migrate north as the hair on his head lengthened. The colors seemed to ripple up his body, leaving acres of unblemished skin in its wake.

Unblemished, golden skin that was still very, very naked.

 

She tried not to look, she really did, but she wasn’t a saint.

His chest was broad and heaved with his movements, his arms having the girth to match. He had thick, muscled thighs that she kind of wanted to ride, and between them-

Well, a girl doesn’t ~~kiss~~ witness an animal transformation and tell…

She heard a low rumble and glanced up again, cheeks flushing.

They grew even redder when she saw his smirk. He’d seen her looking.

Flustered, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” She asked. Well, maybe it wasn’t the _first_ thing…

“Cuddling…?” He said. His voice was rough and sent shivers up her spine.

Really, he had to know she was going to ask that, couldn’t he have come up with a better response? Or at least phrase it as an answer instead of a question?

“Let me rephrase. Why are you in my room.” She said.

He ducked his head. Did her eyes deceive her? Or was there a faint flush along his shapely cheeks...

 _Good_ , she thought viciously. He _should_ be embarrassed, after the stunt he just pulled.

“I’ ‘d m’k s’r ‘er s’f,” He mumbled.

“Excuse me?” She asked. She’d wanted to say ‘excuse you’, but thought that outright belligerence was unlikely to help her in getting an answer.

“I… I had to make sure you were safe.”

Darcy could not believe her ears.

Make sure she was safe? Who did he think she was, some fairytale princess with only a little pinch of magic that would swoon at the drop of a hat?

“Get out.” She said quietly, suddenly furious. Far more enraged by his words than his presence in her room.

“Wha-”

“GET OUT!” She yelled, pointing at the door for emphasis.

He went. If he still had a tail, the furry appendage would be tucked between his legs.

She took a deep breath and tried to release some of her tension.

Darcy could take care of her own damn self, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buchanan: *is trying to figure out why he is so on edge*  
> Winter Soldier, stirring: Oh, am I needed?  
> Buchanan and Bucky: nO!! Go back to sleep!
> 
>  
> 
> Hey look! Another survey!  
> More curiosity, than anything else...
> 
> https://goo.gl/forms/2brtee5qOAHvakYH2
> 
> I'm pretty proud of myself for how long this was... I wrote this last week, right after posting the last chapter, when I was kind of having a manic morning after sleeping poorly.
> 
> Also: keep an eye on my tumblr, http://lemirabitur.tumblr.com or http://marvelhardt.tumblr.com  
> I'll be posting art there soon!  
> I wanted to post the art and the chapter together, but the art isn't done and I thought I'd be nice(for once) and not make you guys wait.
> 
>  
> 
> Update: I managed to get it finished! Feel free to drop me a line and tell me what you think!  
> http://lemirabitur.tumblr.com/post/179402378662/a-little-bit-of-art-from-my-story-on-ao3
> 
>  


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I don't want to advocate drugs or addiction, this chapter is dedicated to Dreann

Courting was hard, Buchanan decided. 

And he’d been doing so well, too. 

When he had made his way into her bed last night, she had shifted and sighed minutely before making space for him on the bed. That had to be a sign, right? That she was beginning to accept him?

But she hadn’t seemed all that happy to see him when she woke up. He couldn’t imagine why- what lovely, strong witch didn’t like a powerful man to hold her. 

Or woman, or person of indeterminate gender- he’d heard that was a thing these days. 

Maybe that was the problem? Did she not like men?

No, he’d seen her looking at him, he’d caught the faint whiff of desire before it was overpowered by her discontent.

She hadn’t seemed angry until he’d told her his reason for being there. Was he not clear? Did she misunderstand him?

Her presence was soothing to him, it helped calm his agitation. Yes, that agitation stemmed from a long day of watching over her, but wasn’t that a compliment? That she was so important to him? That he needed to make sure that she was safe?

Where had he gone wrong, he wondered as he walked morosely back to his suite. It had been going so well, hadn’t it? She might have been asleep, but she definitely cuddled back. 

Did she resent him for ignoring her for two weeks? It hadn’t been his fault, really! He’d tried to get Barnes to make a move- something, anything! All to no avail. 

As he stomped down the stairs, he suddenly became aware of music traveling through the vent systems. It must be that bird-man again, hiding in his nest and playing music. 

In his bad mood, he scoffed and went on his way, but some of the lyrics still managed to penetrate his thoughts.

_ If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends _

That was an idea, wasn’t it?

\--

Jane was having a good day. The coffee and poptarts were hot, the numbers were falling into line, and she had managed to put on socks with no holes in them. 

Darcy hadn’t brought down breakfast like she normally did, but  _ Science! _ waited for no woman. Jane figured the other woman was simply sleeping in- Darcy had probably been tired after being out and about running errands all day yesterday. The scientist patted herself on the back for a job well done. 

A little before eleven, Darcy rushed in, looking harried. Jane looked at her questioningly. 

“It’s been a weird morning,” Darcy said, waving her off. Fair enough, Jane supposed. Living in a tower with their particular collection of weirdos was bound to make ‘normalcy’ a little hard to achieve. 

The younger woman buzzed around the room for a little while, tidying up here and there, before hustling Jane out of the room for lunch, dipping down to snag a couple of bags on her way out the door.

\--

Lunch had been a simple fare, sandwiches and coffee, plus a cookie for Jane because she had been good all morning- no explosions. 

Darcy had left her to her food to go and set up something in Tony’s lab that Jane totally knew nothing about, nothing at all. 

Plausible deniability was important to them.

Trap set and primed, Darcy returned to the lab space, opening the door in time to see Jane pop a piece of chocolate in her mouth.

“Did Thor leave you hidden sweets again?” Darcy asked, exasperated. He knew that Jane was supposed to be limiting her sweets, but she couldn’t fault the big guy, he just loved spoiling Jane. As well as Jane’s dinner.

Jane just shrugged before getting back to work. 

Just as Darcy was turning to do the same, she spotted a pop of color out of the corner of her eye. 

“Jane, who gave you those?” She asked, suddenly tense all over.

\--

Buchanan had been loitering waiting around the labs for the majority of the day. It wasn’t being creepy, he had a purpose in this. 

He was waiting for Doctor Foster to leave. 

Nothing nefarious, really, he just wanted to leave her a little present. 

Buchanan could admit to himself that that didn’t sound all that great, but his sentiment was in the right place. 

He had taken the words of the song to heart and decided to make his case to Darcy by way of her closest packmate friend. 

So here he was, standing outside of a godforsaken science lab holding a bouquet of flowers and chocolates in his hands. 

He was lucky his stealth skills were unmatched, or else his reputation would be in tatters. 

His heart felt fit to burst out of his chest as he watched his angel walk into the lab. She was so beautiful. If he had any less self control, he would have melted into a puddle and sighed happily. 

As it was, he stayed hidden.

Finally, Doctor Foster and Darcy left, and he could make his move. He had been rigorously trained for covert operations, numerous assassinations and thefts, but none were more important than this. He slunk into the lab, making no sound.

Instinctively, he wanted to lay them upon Darcy’s desk, but he reminded himself that these were for Jane and changed course. 

There. His task was complete. 

 

He decided to stay, to see Darcy again to make sure that the Doctor had understood the meaning. 

The Doctor returned, and seemed to take the gifts in stride, but where was Darcy? He began to grow restless, but calmed down when he heard her distinctive footsteps shuffling down the hallway. 

Even with his gaze glued to the door, he could see Doctor Foster in his peripherals as she plopped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. 

Good, she was enjoying her gift. 

Darcy entered, as beautiful as ever, and asked Doctor Foster if ‘Thor’ had left her sweets again.

Thor? Oh, no, he couldn’t let that muscle-bound alien take credit for his work! The doctor only shrugged. He would have to rectify this oversight, but his attention was quickly captivated by his beautiful mate-to-be as she turned away to continue her work. 

His Darcy was so smart, he thought to himself.

It wasn’t sappy if it was true, right?

“Jane…” He heard her drawl. Buchanan didn’t like her tone. “Who gave you those…?” She asked, and he realized that this was his moment. 

As he began to rise and take credit for the gifts, the look on Darcy’s face gave him pause, causing him to follow her gaze and look at Doctor Foster.

This is, of course, the moment where everything started to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually pretty hard to get down- I didn't wake up early enough to take my meds, so it was hard to catch all the words floating around my head and put them down coherently.
> 
> You all would have gotten it a couple of hours ago, but I couldn't get it to post.  
> It turns out that AO3 doesn't support the special character in the shape of a music note, so there's that....  
> \--  
> Me: smiles like a cat that ate the canary and wants you to know  
> Gem: Facepalms
> 
> Thank you to everyone who tried my poll! I was shocked (shook!) at how few people read 'entire work'. I was also flattered that nobody said I was weird- you all are so nice!  
> And we have 3 people with English not as their first language! Oof, I couldn't imagine trying to read a story like this in another language!  
> And shout out to whoever asked for smut- sorry, but this is probably not the story for that... I'm demisexual and Gem is ace, so she's not the most comfortable reading the more risqué sections, just as I'm less comfortable writing them....
> 
> The poll is still up, and it should be set so that anyone can view the results if they're curious
> 
>  
> 
> What else do you guys want to see from me? Whether in the story or in my art?


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow- BrokenHeartedMelody left me 8 comments in the span of 10 hours o_o  
> This was going to be dedicated to racecz5, for bringing up the whole magic aspect that I totally didn’t forget about, but BrokenHeartedMelody takes this one, sorry  
> It was so great to see their commentary throughout the different chapters  
> My favorite comment of theirs:
> 
> Just because she felt she was being followed doesn't necessarily mean it was Buchanan hmm. I did love that even with his stalking, he was like I won't look at her nude, but I will stare at the shower curtain and pout.
> 
> They bring up some thinking points *makes ‘hmmmm’ face but also smirks*  
> Watch for that foreshadowing, doh…..

Just as Darcy was turning to do the same, she spotted a pop of color out of the corner of her eye.

“Jane, who gave you those?” She asked, suddenly tense all over.

\--

Darcy saw a pop of color out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look at Jane. The older woman wasn’t really one to wear brightly colored clothing, far too pragmatic to put too much effort into her appearance. Seeing a bouquet of beautiful flowers, Darcy froze, the pink blossoms suddenly having the entirety of her attention. Cherry Blossoms? Who would bring those here?

“Jane…” She said slowly, drawing out the word as if to put off the inevitable passage of time. “Who gave you those?” The scientist looked up at Darcy’s tone, unused to hearing such a serious cadence from her normally carefree intern-turned-assistant.

“Who gave me what?” Jane croaked out, blinking back the sudden wateriness of her eyes. Croaked? Was her throat really that dry? She tried to lubricate her airways by swallowing several times, but was unable to, and it only drew more of her attention to her throat and how tight it felt. It was hard to breath, and not being able to swallow was starting to get to her. Maybe if she got something to drink?

She started rooting around her desk, looking for a cup of coffee she was sure she’d had at some point earlier, but Darcy’s low voice repeating her name made her look up.

Following Darcy’s intent gaze, her eyes alighted upon the flowers sitting innocently at her desk.

 _Oh. That would explain it_ , Jane thought, just before the symptoms seemed to come at her all at once.

Choking on an attempt at a deep breath, Jane was sent into a coughing fit, doubled over and clutching her chest as her head suddenly felt like a balloon, on the cusp of floating gently to the floor or rising high into the air, never to be seen again.

Darcy was a whirl of manic energy rushing to her own desk and rifling through one of the drawers before coming at Jane with an intent look on her face, a paper clutched in one hand. The hand she used to grasp Jane’s face was as gentle as it was powerful, guiding the other woman so that she could make sure her mouth was clear. Then, airways confirmed to be free of physical obstruction, Darcy was shoving aside her lab coat and yanking down her shirt before slamming her palm into Janes chest, the paper trapped between them.

 

Buchanan swayed as he felt the magical backwash flow over him, the waves of power eddying around him, bringing with it a faint scent of allspice.

They remained in that tableau, the two woman breathing heavily as the man basked in the magic, floating on a high.

“Who left those, Jane?” Came Darcy’s voice.

Buchanan’s high was suddenly gone.

He shrunk in on himself, the movement catching her attention.

“ _You_.” Her voice came out in a hiss more fitting from a Lamia or Basilisk. Maybe she had one as an ancestor?

Buchanan shrunk more. If he’d been in his more hairy form, his ears would have been pressed flat against his skull, his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

“Mrrr?” He mumbled into his shirt, scared to answer but even more wary of remaining silent.

“Can’t you read?” She asked with a frustrated condescension. He cocked his head, and she flung her arm out to gesture to a spot on the wall.

Well, not exactly a simple spot on the wall. The entire wall was covered in whiteboards with equations, with the exception of one spot which prominently featured a piece of lined paper with something written on it. If he squinted, he could just make out the words.

 

 

Rules of the Lab:

1) Darcy is to be obeyed in all things

2) No Nuts

3) No Butts

4) No Coconuts

5) No Flowers

~~6) No boys allowed~~

6) No Tony allowed

 

 

 _Huh,_ Buchanan thought to himself. _Wouldya look at that_ …

His squint-reading was interrupted by Darcy, though nothing she did could ever be considered an ‘interruption.’

“So? Can you?” She asked challengingly. Buchanan looked down at his shoes. Yes, he could read, and he wished he’d tried that approach before barging into the lab with enough allergens to kill his mate-to-be’s packmate.

“What exactly did you think you were doing, bringing flowers in here?” She asked, but continued on before he could think up an answer. “And why leave them for Jane? You know she isn’t single, right?”

“They weren’t…” He mumbled.

“They weren’t what,” Darcy prompted. “They weren’t meant for Jane? Because that’s her desk they’re sitting on.”

“It’s not like that.” He protested. How was he supposed to explain this? “The song said I had to get with your friends.”

“What?” She asked. “What song?”

“The song said ‘If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.” He explained again, looking down and feeling a flush travel all the way up to the tips of his ears.

The fight went out of Darcy all at once. This wasn’t some strangely-planned attack on her or Jane, it was just a weirdo wolf behavior again. She didn’t know why Barnes’ furry side had seemed so fixated on her, but it had worked out in her favor with the goons, so who was she to complain? But now it was starting to become a problem. She could kind of understand if he was trying to atone for scaring her, in his weird way, but attempted murder was not the way to do it.

“Just go.” She said, suddenly tired from activating the healing matrix, and not feeling up to dealing with whatever idea Barnes had gotten into his head.

Things had been so much easier before AIM had infiltrated the tower.

Simpler, even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not have been some symbolism in this chapter- 100 points to whoever can guess what i’m referencing first!(and the meaning)
> 
>  
> 
> Are there any scenes you'd like to see me illustrate?  
>    
> ALSO:  
> [Another poll!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/10ClkKjF7N62eH0slQLttvdy7OrLRwIA-kjbKSzxva7k/edit)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr!  
> [My everything account](%E2%80%9Clemirabitur.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or [My original content account](%E2%80%9Cmarvelhardt.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! WARNING !!!  
>  I've done some tweaks(I'll explain more in the end notes)  
> Make sure to re-read, at the very least, chapter 14 and the beginning of 19!!
> 
>  
> 
> This dedicated to Mickey_la (the only one of you to guess the symbolism) have 100 points!  
> According to the combined meanings given on three different websites, Cherry blossoms can mean any of the following:  
> A good education  
> Transience of life, Mono no aware, Wabi-sabi, gentleness, kindness (in Japan)  
> Feminine beauty (in China)  
> Arrival of a new family member

Thankfully, for her sanity, the rest of the day continued on as usual, and Tuesday followed the same routine.

On Wednesday, Darcy headed to the communal kitchen to scrounge something up for herself and Jane for breakfast.

At this time of morning, it was typical to see several of the Avengers up and about in the kitchen, and today was no exception. Darcy greeted Steve as he sat at the table, finishing the remains of a meal that could surely feed a family for over a week. Sam was reading something idly on his phone while he leaned against the counter.

“What are you boys up to?” She asked. Sam replied that they were finishing up breakfast and then had to head to a meeting at SHIELD. Darcy waved them on their way and then walked over to the pantry, wanting to check what kinds of cereal they had in stock before fully committing herself to the idea.

Honey nut cheerios seemed to be the best choice for the day- she could tell herself she was being somewhat healthy by choosing any kind of cheerios in the first place, but she still got that extra bit of sweetness to start her day off right.

When she reemerged with the box in hand, she found herself confronted with a dark presence. This scenario seemed a little too familiar...

 _Oh no_ , she thought. Were there more goons?

But no, when she looked up, she did not find a battle primed formerly-known-as Winter Soldier bearing down on unconscious goons. Instead she saw the soldier standing in front of her, looking into her eyes imploringly, holding out a cup of coffee.

Darcy simply stood and looked at him blankly.

What the hell did he think he was playing at?

Barnes made a motion of offering with the cup, and she slowly wrapped her fingers around it. It was hot to the touch, and, if she was not mistaken, she could detect the faint aroma of chocolate drifting up from the beverage, just the way she liked it.

Was this supposed to be a placating gesture? Even if it was, she’d take it- Darcy wasn’t one to turn down a perfectly prepared cup of coffee.

She’d already accepted that the wolf-man had no idea what he was doing for the most part, and had more or less forgiven him for proverbially burying Jane in things she was allergic to. Some folks just couldn’t help being dumb.

She took a sip and hummed happily.

Just as she’d thought, perfect. She shook herself out of her haze of enjoyment and narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of the mug. Slowly, one eyebrow rose.

A burst of elation made its way across his face before being tamped down to a more sedate contentment. He nodded at her, gave her a small smile, and left the kitchen.

Wait, was that it?

 

The rest of the week continued similarly, with Barnes popping up holding food out to her and looking like she had given him the greatest gift in the world when she accepted.

Maybe it was some new therapy thing? Showing that his actions could have positive impacts rather than only negative ones?

More power to him, or whatever.

Darcy was gearing up to have a relaxing weekend when Barnes popped up yet again. God, this man just seemed to appear out of nowhere! As was typical for this new pattern of behavior, he had in his hands an offering of sustenance, specifically a fresh looking banana. He looked at her so hopefully that she couldn’t find it in herself to let him down, even if she wasn’t really that hungry.

“Thanks,” she said as she reached for the fruit. He seemed to lean in to the motion as well, and his eyes fluttered shut as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes flew open and immediately went bug eyed, and his gaze going straight to her.

What, did she smell? She was sure she had remembered to put on deodorant…

His face came in closer and she had to resist the urge to shove at it even as she shrunk away. Maybe she wouldn’t take the banana after all, it didn’t seem worth it…

A low rumble started in his chest even as his hands clamped around her arms, holding her still while he made a perusal of her person, taking deep sniffs.

Really, this didn’t seem called for.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, his voice almost, dare she say, guttural. She shivered.

“What?” She asked, dazed.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked again, growing more agitated.

“I’m not hurt!” Darcy exclaimed. He scrunched up his nose adorably and leaned down to stick his face into her belly. Some part of Darcy’s lizard-brain was deeply uncomfortable with a predator being so close to her soft underside.

“But there’s blood…” He said, looking lost, before attempting to bury his face lower down.

“Stop!” She cried out, shoving at his shoulders before literally planting her hand on his forehead and trying to move him. Even though she knew that he was much stronger, he immediately moved under her palms as she pushed him away. “What are you doing?” She asked, wanting nothing more than to understand. He wasn’t completely irrational, just weird. Right?

“I smell blood, I’m checking for injuries.” He said, looking perplexed and concerned. His eyes were darting all around her face, as if she was suddenly going to start bleeding out of her pores.

Darcy sighed and pinched her nose.

“I think it’s best if you leave,” she said. He let out a minute whimper but it cut off when she gave him a warning look, and he made his way out easily enough.

God, he was being weird. This whole fixating-on-her thing seemed a little misplaced, since Jane was the one he gave the flowers to. 

 

If Friday had been strange, Saturday wasn’t any better. She had thought that staying secluded for the weekend would decrease the number of run-ins she had with the shifter, but no. When she left her suite to get breakfast, he was there immediately, following sedately behind her. When she headed back to her rooms, he once again followed her- he even tried to follow her into her rooms, but Darcy still remembered what had happened earlier in the week and was in no mood for an encore.

She had expected him to leave when denied entrance, but, to her surprise, when she left to get lunch, he was still there, sitting in the hallway.

Again, he followed her to the kitchen and back, this time politely remaining outside, though she didn’t miss the hopeful glances he was throwing her way, nor the furrow in his brow. 

As she tidied up her rooms, she thought she heard a faint whimpering from the hallway outside, but brushed it off as a figment of her imagination.

Darcy was determined to have a relaxing weekend, no matter what Barnes was all in a huff about. She didn't need anything to do with him trying to take care of her. Whether it was due to pack-tending instincts or a new therapy strategy, he could take his sad-eyes and go bother Steve.

\--

Buchanan was beside himself with fits, pulling at his hair as he sat hunched over in the hallway outside of Darcy’s rooms. Something was wrong with her, but he couldn’t tell what. Had she been poisoned? Cursed? He couldn’t tell, all he knew was the unwelcome scent of her blood in his nose. The scent of iron and life, but tainted somehow.

He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t let him take care of her. He understood the need to lick wounds in private, but she kept insisting that she wasn’t hurt, and his nose easily told him that that was a lie.

There was a low chuckle from the back of his mind, but it refused to elaborate on what was so funny. His human side was so unhelpful, but the irritation he incited was brushed away by his concern for his mate-to-be.

Why wouldn’t she let him help her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody pointed out to me in one of the polls that the story started to drag after the first 8 chapters or so, but I had already gotten them hooked. To whoever that was-  
> Thank you for telling me!  
> I'm not really used to creative writing- I'm more accustomed to poetry and essays, so I didn't even realize what was happening. I've tried to make it a little better by adding tension and being more overt in my foreshadowing, so I've added some VIPs (Very Important Passages) to chapters 14 and 19, along with some tweaks to other chapters. 
> 
> Please, tell me if I'm being too wordy or trying to work in too much background information! I want to continue to get better and I think I sometimes have difficulty seeing the forest through the trees...
> 
>  
> 
> Also: I promise. Next chapter, the a-ha moment


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to EmilyF
> 
> The moment you've all been waiting for

Bucky took a breath and straightened his tie. He had dressed to the nines for this, even if he was only in semi-casual clothing. He wanted to look his best for his best girl.

It’d be okay, Stevie had said it was just a small gathering. Nothing to be too worried about, but Darcy would be there.

‘ **Aren’t you glad I broke the ice and talked to her?** ’ Buchanan gloated from the back of his mind.

_ I wouldn’t exactly call what you did ‘talking to her’, pal… _

The wolf had had his turn, and now it was time for Bucky to show him how it’s done.

\--

In the corner, Tony was talking to Steve about breaches in the wards. Bucky thinks he should probably be paying more attention to that, but all he could see was the beautiful bombshell by the wetbar.

He came up behind her and leaned against the bar, a move his body still remembered even after all these years.

“Your father was a thief.”

“What?”

“He stole the stars and put them in your eyes.”

“... What?”

“It… He stole-” Bucky stopped. This wasn’t working. The wolf was laughing at him.

‘ **I can do better, you said. I’m not letting the wolf fuck this up for me, you said. Famous last words, eh pal?** ’ 

And it was true, Bucky  _ had _ said that. After watching the train wreck that was the wolf’s attempt at courting, he felt he had to step in so that he wouldn’t  _ completely _ destroy their chances with the girl of his dreams.

‘ **And how’s that going for you?** ’

_ Shut up, you didn’t even realize she was having her time of the month. _

_ ‘ _ **_I WAS CONCERNED, OKAY?_ ** _ ’ _

“I must be in heaven, I want to tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel.” Immediately, Bucky regretted speaking. That wasn’t how the line was supposed to go. If he thought he could do it subtly, he would be banging his head on the bar top.

“Barnes? Are you feeling okay?” The tips of his ears felt hot, and he thought he could hear Steve’s pained groan from across the room, yet the big punk did nothing to help him.

_ Come to the party, Steve said. It’ll be fun, Steve said.  _

‘ **Let me be in control, I said. You’ll only fuck this up, I said.** ’ Buchanan wasn’t being helpful either.

“Was that cannon fire, or is my heart pounding?” He tried again. While it wasn’t really the reciprocal flirting he was going for, her small palm did reach up to lay over his chest.

‘ **Flex your pecs.** ’ 

_ No.  _

‘ **Go on, flex your pecs. Bitches love it when you flex.** ’

_ And how would you know? _

‘ **... I mean, sometimes, you just know these things.** ’

_ Right… _

“Your heart rate doesn’t feel that fast…” Was she speaking? He should be listening. Dames liked being listened to.

“It’s beating just for you.” He said, clasping his flesh hand over hers and looking into her eyes.

“Was that a come on?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

“I- what?”

“Are you flirting with me?” 

_ MAYDAY! MAYDAY! ABORT! ABORT! _

‘ **Answer her, you fool!** ’

“If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” 

‘ **Seriously? Seriously. That’s what you’re going with.** ’

_ I always used that line in the dance halls. _

‘ **Yeah, for girls you wanted to make time with. Not for the ones you wanted to go steady with.** ’

_ I panicked… _

‘ **_I noticed_ ** **.** ’

“Is this the first time you’ve flirted in 70 years,” she asked, laughing. “I’m flattered!”

He ducked his head. She wasn’t supposed to be laughing. His ears, still attuned to the slightest changes in his best friend’s breathing, heard Steve give out a slight wheeze. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one having a less than ideal time at this shindig.

“What’s wrong,” she said, still giggling lightly as she ducked down to get a better look at his face. “Oh… Oh, you were serious…” Her eyes went wide and his cheeks burned under her gaze. “Where did this come from?” 

_ Really? _

‘ **Really?** ’

“What do you mean ‘where did this come from’? What did you think I was trying to do for the past two weeks?”

‘ **What** **_I_ ** **was trying to do- don’t take credit for my work.** ’

“I thought you were trying to make up for scaring me!”

“Scaring you?” When had he scared her?

‘ **What does she mean, scaring her? I only smelled fear at the very end of our chase, in the secure place.** ’

_ Chase _ ?

‘ **Yeah, our mating chase.** ’

_ Mating chase? _

‘ **... You didn’t know?** ’

“Yeah, you know, when you chased me through the tower after the AIM goons invaded.” She was giving him a funny look- why was she giving him that look?

_ Buchanan… _

‘ **... Yes…?** ’

_ What does she mean by ‘chasing her through the tower’? _

‘ **She initiated the mating chase, and we ran through the tower until I caught her.** ’

_ How exactly did she initiate it? _ Bucky could feel a vein pulsing in his forehead.

‘ **A challenge.** ’

_ Explain. _

‘ **She looked me in the eyes and then ran.** ’

_ … Excuse me? _

‘ **It was great, she was very clever. She confused her scent trail several times and even initiated one of the training simulations in the gym, before letting me catch her in one of the secure rooms.** ’

_ One of the secure rooms? _ Bucky was dreading the answer,  _ please let it not be what I think it is _ ...

‘ **Yeah, one of the secure rooms full of supplies, on the floor below the one she works on.** ’

_ You mean one of the safe rooms _ ?

‘ **Well, she certainly didn’t seem to think it was all that safe, she smelled like sour fear when we got there.** ’

_ Did you ever stop to think that it wasn’t the room she was afraid of? _

‘ **What do you mean?** ’

_ YOU, genius! She was afraid of you! _ If it was possible to mentally shout at an alternate personality, that was what he was doing.

‘ **...what?** ’ Buchanan was utterly dismayed. It couldn’t be true, could it?

“Bucky?” His head snapped up and they both turned their attention to Darcy. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh- sugar, everything's fine!” Her eyebrows drew together.

“Who do you think you’re calling ‘sugar’?”

“Um, you?” Bucky didn’t understand where this conversation was going, but at least she was talking to him.

“Why.” Bucky thought it was kind of obvious, but he didn’t really mind explaining himself to Darcy.

“Well, because I’m sweet on you, of course!”

‘ **It’s because she’s so sweet…** ’

_ Shut up, you’re distracting me! _

“You’re sweet on me.”

“Yes.”

“And this is how you decided to show it?”

“... Yes?”

‘ **Be more confident, bitches like confidence.** ’

“Yes,” he tried again, straightening his shoulders. “This is how I decided to show it.” She crossed her arms, the movement pushing her breasts up and in.

_ Don’t look, don’t look, you’re a gentleman, don’t look… _

‘ **I’m not a gentle anything, and I’ll look if I want to!** ’ In the transient parts of the moon cycle, their strength was more or less evenly matched, and Bucky felt his eyes drift downward as Buchanan took advantage of that fact.

_ She’s going to think I’m a rake! _

‘ **Yeah, but you** **_are_ ** **a rake.** ’

_ Not anymore, I’m not! _

“Let me get this straight,” Darcy began, shifting her shoulders back and making her breasts pop forward even more.

‘ **I’d rather you get bent, maybe over a table right in front of me so that I could-** ’

_ Buchanan, shut up! _

“You chase me through the tower and scare me out of my wits before confining me to your rooms.” Oh, god, she was counting off on her fingers. “You then come after me when I finally manage to leave, and you follow me up to the common floor and call me ‘your bitch’. I could forgive you for that, since you were under the influence, but then you proceeded to ignore me for two weeks, leaving me to binge watch TV on my own.”

Oh… He had done that, hadn’t he.

‘ **Yeah, and then I had to make up for it.** ’

“You climb into my bed as a wolf and then change unrepentantly into a very naked man right in front of me, and somehow manage to break my door knob in the process. We can’t forget you almost killing my best friend- nope! Not a word, I’m not done! And now, of course, you’re bombarding me with awful pickup lines and misogynistic pet names, all the while staring at my tits and claiming that you like me. Have I got that about right?”

‘ **She forgot that we protected her when she left the tower.** ’

_ Don’t you dare tell her that. _

‘ **But it’s important! We kept her safe!** ’

_ I can guarantee that she won’t see it that way. _

“Some- something along those lines, yeah.” This was really not what he had been hoping for when he’d left his rooms.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I-” Did he tell her about Buchanan? Most shifters’ animal counterparts weren’t developed enough to hold a conversation, let alone take over for more than just their full moon shift. Would she think he was crazy, talking to his other half in his head?

‘ **Hate to break it to you, but I’m not your other half. At most, I’m 40% of you- gotta remember our sleeping soldier.** ’

_ I was trying to forget _ .

“It wasn’t me.”

“How so?”

“I- It was the wolf.”

“Nice try, but you were checked for the drug after the ‘cognitive recalibration’ and you came back clean, and I’ve been around Clint long enough to know that the ‘wolf’ isn’t it’s own personality. Try again.”

‘ **Excuse you.** ’

“Yeah, for regular shifters, but I ain’t exactly ‘normal’, dollface, and sometimes I lose time to him.”

“There it is again! The pet names!”

“What?”

“Dollface. You called me dollface.”

“It’s a compliment, I swear! Your face is just so pretty!”

“And yet, you’re still staring at my tits.” 

_ Was he? _

‘ **Yes.** ’

“I…” How exactly was he supposed to come back from this?

Darcy sighed.

“Look, Barnes, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I think you still need some more time to acclimate to the new century, do a little more reading. Maybe in a little while you can try a relationship, but I’m not sure it should be with me.”

His heart felt like it was sinking as she turned and left, and even Buchanan couldn’t seem to muster the energy to stare at her ass as she walked away.

‘ **Well, fuck.** ’

_ I couldn’t have said it better myself. _

 

\--

 

So. She’d finally gotten an explanation for Barnes’ behavior, but now she didn’t know what to do with it. 

As she pushed the call button for the elevator, she tried to call up all of the interactions she’d had with him since the incident, but her mind kept pulling up the image of his downturned face and bright red ears. 

He had looked like a dejected puppy that nobody wanted to play with, and her heart hurt at the image.

Barnes liked her.

He wasn’t trying to make up for scaring/avoiding her. He wasn’t trying to make up for the flowers and the chocolate.

He liked her.

_ That _ was a revelation she hadn’t been expecting tonight…

Not that she had been anticipating any profound moments.

_ Cinderella never asked for a prince, she asked for a night off and a pretty dress _ .

Yeah, basically. She’d dressed up a little, looking forward to a night drinking with friends and watching shitty TV, but instead Barnes had put his heart in her hands, and now she didn’t know what to do with it.

It was probably just a crush, right? Not his whole heart?

 

Thoughts swirling, she stepped out of the elevator and found, to her surprise, that she was in the lobby, not on her own floor as she had thought. Freudian slip of the hand, maybe?

Well, her hand might be on to something, she thought, as she stepped into the night an hailed a taxi. She had a night off, a pretty dress, and now she needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big things are in the works....
> 
> What did you all think?


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, your comments read like someone slowly coming to the realization of what was happening
> 
> Dedicated to Liebekatze, who was completely right.

It was a Saturday night, she was hot, and the bars and clubs were open and ready for business. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t be her business, it’d be any number of guys paying for her drinks.

Would a little more cleavage help her cause? Sure, why not, one could never have too much cleavage. 

Darcy strutted into the club like she owned the place, tall and confident as she surveyed the crowd. Well, not that tall, but the confidence more than made up for what her shoes didn’t give her.

She decided to start off with a mojito, just a little something to get the night started, and she hummed happily as she took a sip. The mint perked her up while the rum slowed her back down, a potent mix perfect for forgetting all about Tall, Dark and Deadly back at the tower.

One sip turned into two which turned into another glass, and suddenly she was grinding on the dance floor, not entirely sure of how she got there but having a great time nevertheless. Dancing with a guy a little shorter than Barnes, she did her best to let go, to relax and lose herself in the beat of the music and the crush of bodies around her.

The former assassin was hot, no doubt, but he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He needed to put his own recovery first instead of trying to turn his attentions to someone else.

A small break for another drink, and she found herself dancing with a guy with stubble and a brown man-bun. Why did that look so familiar? Her head spun with the movement and, yeah, maybe she should try a glass of water and something to eat.

A flash of blue eyes made her think back to her wolf. No- not her wolf. The wolf back at the tower. He had seemed so sincere. Would it really hurt to give him a chance?

After a while, she noticed her energy starting to flag, and tried to find somewhere to sit and catch her breath. Wow- had it only been an hour? Maybe she had been more tired from the work week than she had thought. 

She ought to go home, probably. Back to the tower and her wards and the team and Barnes. No, not Barnes, Bucky. She should go back and talk to Bucky. Maybe they could go on that date. Had he asked her on a date? Her head was fuzzy. 

Yeah, they could go on a date. But not right away, maybe after a couple of weeks and some therapy sessions. Sam might know somebody who could help. She should go ask Sam. 

Now with a goal in mind, Darcy stumbled her way out of the nearest door, pleasantly surprised to discover a Taxi already idling in the alley. That was convenient, wasn’t it? She managed to get in and close the door before slumping over the armrest.

“Avengers Tower, please.” She said, doing her very best to enunciate clearly.

“Right away ma’am.” The driver stated.

“‘M not a ma’am.” She mumbled, before closing her eyes. Just a short nap, the driver would wake her up when she reached the tower.

 

-

 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t sure what to think. Two weeks ago, he had been terrified out of his mind at all of the nightmare scenarios his mind had cooked up for what would happen when the wolf got free-and he knew it would bet free, the pull of the moon too strong to ignore.

But none of them had come true.

Well, none of the nightmares about what the wolf would do had come true- he’d had plenty of other ideas about where he could go wrong if he ever managed to get the courage to open his mouth in front of her, and his wolf had seemed to treat it like a list, checking off boxes left and right.

Or Buchanan, as he had been told the thing had named itself.

He had to scoff- what right did the beast have to the name his mother had given him?

‘ **Watch yourself, buddy, we are of the same cloth.** ’ He hated it when the wolf was right.

_ Why’d you have to choose the name Buchanan? _ He wasn’t whining, really- he wasn’t.

‘ **What’s wrong with Buchanan?’** The wolf almost seemed offended.

_ It was a dumb name in the 40s and it’s a dumb name now, that’s what. Why did you think we chose to go by ‘Bucky’? _

‘ **Because you’re a glutton for punishment? Because you didn’t want to be taken seriously?** ’

_ Shut up. _

 

Bucky was fine, really he was. No matter what the little wolf voice in the back of his head might be saying, he was perfectly content to stay at home and laze around, even if Darcy did just so happen to be out on the town. 

She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as she had so kindly informed him.

Really, he was fine.

 

It was then, of course, that the alarms went off, with a voice coming on over the speakers directing them to make their way to what Tony had dubbed ‘The Situation Room.’

In the back of his mind, the wolf let out a long whine.

 

-

 

Her head was killing her. That’s what she gets for drinking so much on an empty stomach. She opened her eyes blurrily and thanked whoever was listening that she had managed to remember to turn off the lights. She let out a sigh, feeling the aches and pains from a night of dancing, and tried to turn around and go back to sleep.

Only, she couldn’t turn over.

There seemed to be something heavy around her wrists that tangled around her as she tried to shift. And her bed wasn’t nearly as soft as she remembered it being. 

She blinked her eyes open once again. What was going on?

Now that she was paying attention, she could pick out more details. The barest hint of light coming in from under a door, giving a glimpse of stone beneath it.

The logic centers of her brain sluggishly hummed to life.

The floor was stone. The bed was not soft.

Her rooms at the tower featured hardwood floors, though she couldn’t say for sure whether they were real or some kind of manufactured laminate or tile. Her bed at home was incredibly soft and covered in a myriad of pillows. 

Adding all of these things together, she came to the conclusion that she was not in the tower.

Which begged the question: where was she?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *sings to self* I'm an asshole, I am such an asshole, I'm an asshole, I am such a dick  
> Gem: Well, really, its [REDACTED]  
> Me: True enough...
> 
>  
> 
> Any guess on who it is and what is happening?
> 
> :3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many great comments!!!
> 
> But I think this has to go to Pendragon451, for getting the closest!
> 
> You might have gotten a reply of my signature pleased-cat face
> 
> :3
> 
> Which means you were close in your guess or I just really liked it

_There was a hard, cool surface under her back._

_. . ._

_Lights rushing past her from above as she was moved._

_. . ._

_Something heavy around her wrists._

_. . ._

_A flash of red, then blue._

_. . ._

Beep…

_. . ._

_Purple? Was that purple she saw?_

_. . ._

_Murmuring above her, lights being shined in her eyes._

_. . ._

_Red-hot pain bursting to life on her skin._

_. . ._

Beep…

_. . ._

_There were stars in her veins, bright bursts all along her body._

_. . ._

_Something burning as it was pushed through her veins, burrowing deep inside of her and making its way to her heart._

_. . ._

_Her body growing heavier. Was this what dying felt like? Going to sleep and just forgetting to wake up?_

_. . ._

Beep…

_. . ._

_She could do that… Just one small step into eternal slumber..._

_. . ._

Beep…

_. . ._

_She might even welcome death, to get away from this torment._

_. . ._

Beep…

_. . ._

_Then came the voices…_

_“. . . magic . . . great . . .”_

_“. . . Hydra . . .”_

Was she going mad?

_“. . . wolf . . . control . . .”_

_“. . . change . . . mate . . .”_

Was this what madness felt like?

“. . . Hail Hydra.”

Maybe she would prefer going mad.

\--

He felt like he was buzzing all over, fit to crawl out of his skin. Muscles tensed painfully in agitation, he paced and rubbed his palms over his face and head, alternating between carding his fingers through his hair and tugging at it painfully.

He wanted to ~~howl at the moon~~ shout to the sky, he wanted to destroy something, he wanted-

Darcy. He wanted Darcy.

He wanted to wrap his sweet little hedge witch in his arms and protect her from the world.

He was going mad. Darcy had been taken.

Darcy had been taken, and he was alone. It was the New Moon and his furrier half was all but absent, which was a shame, he could have used the support. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he missed the company.

The call had come in, that her cellphone had been destroyed and she was missing, and he had immediately shut down.

Steve, darling Stevie, immediately took charge, barking out orders for investigation and demanding information. His head felt off kilter and he was so alone-alone-alone, but Stevie would take care of it.

Stevie would take care of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Any guesses on what is going to happen next? Nefarious plans are in the works
> 
> :3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to JennyGG

Stevie would not take care of it, he was beginning to learn, though not for lack of trying. 

The time had passed in emotional agony, his mind swirling over what he could have done differently to save her. He should have gone with her, or sent Steve or Natalia with her, he should have told FRIDAY to watch her through cameras, he should have asked her not to leave. 

He should have done a lot of things, but in the end he had just moped in his rooms like a pathetic little waste of space, going over his failed attempt at flirting and berating Buchanan for distracting him. But Buchanan had already been weak, energy sapped from him as the moon waned, and his presence was steadily fading without Darcy there to make him fight for prominence. 

They had both jerked to attention when the alarms had blared, Buchanan fighting to stay conscious. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“There is a problem with Miss Lewis’ phone tracker.” Came the lilting irish voice of the AI.

His blood went cold, time seeming to slow down and then rush forward all at once. He launched himself off of the couch, throwing open the door with a bang and then rushing into the hallway. His shoulder slammed into the wall, but the pain didn’t register as he ran to what he had heard called ‘The Situation Room.’

“Where’s Darcy?” He demanded as he flew into the room. Steve and Natalia were already sitting at the conference table, and they looked up at him solemnly. 

Never one to beat around the bush, the Black Widow informed him that Darcy’s phone had been either broken, turned off, or dismantled, all of which would activate the tracker. FRIDAY had managed to find the phone in a back alley on a security camera, but Darcy was nowhere to be found.

“We’ll find her, Yasha.”

He twitched at the name he hadn’t heard in so long, but he was frozen in the cacophony of his own mind. Buchanan screamed and tried to claw his way to the fore, but was snuffed out, the last of his energy reserves used up.

Bucky was alone.

He didn’t know how long he stood in the doorway, but when he blinked he saw the worried blue eyes of his oldest friend looking at him.

“It’s okay, Buck, we’ll get her back.” Large palms ran gently over his shoulders, one feeling the smooth slide of the fabric of his sleeve over his skin, and the other registering the warmth and pressure, a transient feeling of pins and needles traveling along the wires of his synthetic nerves.

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve promised, as he guided Bucky to a chair. Bucky sat dead-eyed through the strategy meeting, absorbing information only thanks to the decades of rigorous training that drilled awareness of his surroundings into the very heart of him. The information was stored, he couldn’t process it, could barely process that she was gone.

He didn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning under his covers, flashes of red, then blue across his vision, burning in his veins, and the image of Darcy’s accusing blue eyes, telling him he should have done more. 

When he couldn’t take it any longer, he got up and made his way to the common floor, gratified to see he was not the only one with bloodshot eyes.

They continued working for hours, scouring traffic cameras to follow the path of the taxi she entered, following leads, and calling in favors, but with very little to show. By the end of the day they had learned that the car was an actual taxi, but the original driver was dead, and the gps and meter had been deactivated. They had changed cars at some point, too, in a large gap in an area without many cameras, since the next time they saw the car, it was being towed.

His teeth had started to hurt from how hard he had been tensing his jaw, and his shoulder had locked up as well. 

Hours turned into days, and the days eventually became a week, and before he knew it, it was Steve’s birthday, and nobody was in the mood to celebrate. 

They had to keep up appearances, however, so Stark had made a big show of having ice sculptures and chocolate fountains delivered to the common floor, for a ‘Private Avengers Party.’ The ice slowly melted onto the tray it had arrived on, sitting in the elevator lobby where it had been delivered. Bucky never saw the fabled chocolate fountain, so it probably was a lie to the press or had gone to one of the other floors. 

That evening was spent sitting in silence in the common room, each of them mechanically chewing their takeout and mulling over their investigation.

‘ **Darcy had quite an impact…** ’ Came Buchanan. His voice was weak, lacking any reserved energy after trying too hard to be in charge on the night of the new moon.

Bucky silently agreed, seeing the slumped shoulders of his companions, feeling the weight of their worry and dread.

“We’ll find her.” Steve said, breaking the silence. Nobody responded, wanting so badly to believe him.

-

The search continued, the bags under his eyes growing larger and larger. His days were a monotonous loop of trying (and failing) to sleep, eating his breakfast but not tasting a bite, then heading to the conference room to go back over all of their information until his eyes were bloodshot. A quick dinner of whatever was most convenient, several more hours of analyzing information, and then repeating the cycle again.

Buchanan grew stronger every day up until the full moon, where they were forced to shift and Bucky got the sweet oblivion of nonexistence under the weight of his counterpart’s presence, if only for a night. Buchanan quickly relinquished control, however, seeing no point in being in charge without Darcy.

The days passed in a blur, only broken by his nightmares and one incident where Stark was found crying in his lab after triggering a prank Darcy had apparently set up, content to play the long game. They all gathered around the spill of glitter across the floor, laughing to stave off tears at the revenge that was just  _ so Darcy. _

Time went on and another new moon passed. Bucky couldn’t stand being alone in his head, needing the silent support to keep going. After all that time of coexisting, it was Darcy that made him work with his wolf, and her absence that make him accept his counterpart.

Prospects were becoming more bleak. Steve had said he would take care of it, that he would find her, but Captain America had other commitments. As much as they might wish otherwise, the Avengers had responsibilities, and they couldn’t spend all their time looking for one lab assistant. Bucky remained fixed to his task, not yet an active Avenger, and he tried not to resent the others for going on other missions. 

A breakthrough came 5 weeks after her disappearance. Natasha strode into the situation room and smacked a folder down on the table, declaring that she had found who had killed the cab driver. Through that, she had found who ordered the hit, Alexi Shostakov.

The team immediately got to work, but Bucky begged off, citing a headache. Besides, he wouldn’t be any help- anything he could contribute could be done more efficiently by someone else on the team. 

He rubbed his hand over his face as he dressed for bed and shuffled under the covers, content to hide from the world once more. 

Alexi. He knew that name, didn’t he?

It sounded familiar, but nothing was coming to mind, and his brow furrowed as he fell into a troubled sleep.

-

 

-

His eyes flew open and he gasped, lurching upward. He _ did _ know the name, just as he had suspected! He should tell Steve immediately, so the others could investigate. He even had a location, a base nearby that Alexi had been in control of at one point!

‘ **A location?** ’ Buchanan spoke for the first time in days. ‘ **You have a location?** ’ 

Bucky was part way through pulling on his pants as he replied affirmatively. Immediately, there was a lurch in his brain as Buchanan shoved himself forward.

‘ **Let’s go get her.** ’ 

_ But shouldn’t we tell Steve? _

‘ **No time.** ’

_ But he’s going to be worried. _

**‘He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine.** ’

_ But- _

‘ **Leave him a note.** ’ Bucky conceded, scrawling a brief note and laying it on his bedside table, confident that Steve would see it when he looked for Bucky for not showing up to breakfast.

He kitted up quickly, dressing in his familiar leathers and strapping as many weapons to his person as he could. 

He would go and get Darcy, kill some HYDRA scum, and be back in time for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember WWII, 'back in time for christmas'?  
> yeah, that.
> 
>  
> 
> You guys had so many great guesses!!! I was so happy to hear them! 
> 
> Several of you were close, but nobody got it quite right, does anybody want to try again?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to racecz5, right on the money!
> 
> I'm a little sick right now(aka:i've been under the weather this week and last week), but I thought I'd post this...

He was beginning to realize that he might have been a little ambitious about being back in time for dinner.

He was a one man army, but HYDRA had hundreds at their disposal. For every one he cut down, two more seemed to take his place- was this what they had meant by that phrase? Their unending supply of unskilled meat-shields?

Quantity won out over quality in this case, however, and he was eventually overwhelmed. He thrashed as they held him down, snarling like the beast they thought he was. He grinned savagely at a squeal of pain, teeth bloody from a cut lip.

Good, let them feel some small fraction of the pain they had caused him. Let them fear their creation.

They stripped of his weapons and then of his clothes, buckling him to a cold metal table. He pressed against the straps, preparing for his eventual second wind, but the material only creaked under his efforts, not offering any give.

Buchanan was howling in distress in the back of his mind, but wisely didn’t attempt to take control; now was not the time for directionless violence, he needed to get the lay of the land, so to speak, and determine who he needed to kill to get to Darcy. That restraint turned out to be for naught, grasped his arm and inserted an IV, making him instinctively writhe before the haze settled over his awareness.

_Great. This again._

His mind was shifting without his consent, Buchanan coming forward as Bucky was pushed back. It was incredibly disorienting, the mental equivalent of being queasy. The both of them panicked when they realized that the Winter Soldier was rousing, the drug managing to specifically target that dormant fragment of personality.

His head swam as they wheeled him down the hall, lab coats touching him, cold metal against his chest, something being shoved up his nose.

He didn’t like this, what was going on?

Where was he? Why were these strange people touching him? Where was his pack? Where was his mate?

His arms weren’t following his commands, twitching lifelessly as he tried to move them.

He had to find his ~~handler~~ mate. ~~He had to wait for orders~~.

A door opened up in the hallway up ahead, and he could smell something delicious coming through. Like home and flowers, a notion of something sweet across the tongue. His head weakly turned to try to catch a whiff of it again. The table under him shuddered as it was pushed over the lip of the door.

He was being taken into the room! Maybe he would find the source of the good smell! He breathed deeply again, smiling faintly at the scent.

He didn’t resist as hands reached over him, undoing the straps that held him down. He had to find the good smell, everything else around him was awful. There were hands pushing at him, but he was in a daze.

“Off the table!” A commanding voice rang out. He flinched at the loud noise, ears pressing flat against his head, but his body moved without his instruction, feet settling on the floor. The man who had spoken nodded and did an about face, exiting the room without looking back the lab coats following in his wake. A presence in the back of his head felt a burst of pleasure at the perceived approval. The rest of him bristled at being told what to do.

The room was bare but for a pallet in the corner, covered in blankets, and a bucket on the opposite end. He stood in place, unsure of what to do and wondering at his blind obedience. _He_ was the alpha of his pack, there was no wolf above him. He may defer to the blond one and allow him to take charge, but he was his own alpha, and he had no master to heed and obey. So why had he done so just now?

**_Compliance will be rewarded._ **

What was that supposed to mean?

His attention was captured by the pile of blankets in the corner as it shifted. He crouched down, gaze intent on his target. A shape moved beneath the blanket and the bundle shifted, some unseen flap of fabric shifting to release more of that wonderful scent.

His tense posture melted as it hit his nose, prowling forward and sniffing for the highest concentration of the smell. He settled onto his knees, then his side, curling around the mound and sticking his face as far into the blankets as he could. He sighed and tried to relax, breathed in deeply and tried to block out the horrible place he had found himself in.

-

 

-

The world swirled around her as she tried to shift her head in a futile attempt to get a better look at her surroundings. She was strapped to a table in a nondescript room. The walls were blank, the room was bare, and the door was closed.

The paper covering the metal was white and rough under her palms. Her arms were at her sides, and her left arm was throbbing. She blinked, and followed a brightly colored line up from her arm. The purple color of the liquid in the IV bag would have been pretty under any other circumstance, but the context made it all the more sinister.

Her body ached and she felt weak, like a newborn kitten. There was a pounding in her ears and a ringing in her head. Wait, no, it was a ringing in her ears and a pounding in her head. Had she hit her head? It hurt so badly…

Except the ringing wasn’t in her ears. Or, it was, but it was also outside of her ears. An alarm was blaring, only slightly muffled by the door, and she could hear heavy boots running past. What was happening? Was she being rescued? She couldn’t muster the energy to hope, let alone sit up and try to get a better look through the small window inset into the door.

“You owe me 20 bucks.”

What?

“What?”

There were voices outside of her door. Guards, maybe? There were more boots, and she could hear gunfire. This was what a rescue would sound like, right?

“I told you this would work, you owe me 20 bucks.” Said the first voice again. Told who that what would work?

“I never took that bet,” came the second voice, and they quickly devolved into an argument, but she was no longer listening.

What was happening? What had they planned? Was there a specific reason they had taken her?

She had a vague recollection of waking up in a cell, cold and alone, and then she was here, strapped down like an animal.

They hadn’t spoken a word to her.

In all of her lessons with Natasha, she had never learned what to do if her kidnappers never asked her questions, and that terrified the hell out of her. She had seen their faces and they weren’t interrogating her. That meant they weren’t planning on ransoming her. That they wanted her for something else.

She grunted and tried to shift her hand to reach at the buckle to her straps, only succeeding in knocking the IV stand over.

“Ugh, she’s awake again.”

Again? How long had she been on the drip? How long had she been here? Her head was pounding as she shifted again, and she was starting to wonder if she had hit her head.

“Better call the Doctor.”

She didn’t like the sound of that… She heard the screech of a shoulder radio and then speaking, but she was feeling heavier and heavier. Her head slumped against her shoulder and as her eyes drifted closed, she see red making its way down the plastic tubing.

Wasn’t that not supposed to happen? Didn’t modern needles have something that stopped that?

She guessed HYDRA wouldn’t have…. Wouldn’t have the…. Couldn’t afford the...

What wouldn’t they have? What couldn’t they afford? Her head felt so slow and heavy.

Maybe just a small nap would be okay. Just to rest her eyes.

-  
“. . .   _worked . . . Soldier . . . came for her . . .”_

“. . .   _serum . . . mate . . .”_

Serum? Mate? Who?

“ _. . . stress . . . handler . . . trauma . . .”_   
Yeah, you could say she was stressed.

“. . . _full dose . . . bonding . . . territory . . .”_

_“. . . put them in . . . together . . .”_

Who? Put who in where together?

She was being moved again, the lights flashing by overhead. She gazed up, trying to meet the eye of one of the lab coats wheeling her through the halls, but none of them even looked at her. She tried to ask them where they were going, or what they were doing to her, but she couldn’t make the noises come out.

They turned abruptly, the entire table lurching as each wheel crossed the threshold, and the lab coats began unbuckling her. She thought it seemed familiar, as they took her from the table and placed her on a pallet with a moderate amount of gentleness before leaving. She flinched as her skin touched the coarse material of the almost-mattress, and she instinctively reached to her left, feeling softer blankets under her palm.

How had she known they were there?

Someone had given these to her, hadn’t they? Someone with an angular face and soft looking hair? She shivered in the air of the room, suddenly cold, and did her best to completely cover herself, hiding away from the place she had found herself in.

 

It could have been hours or it could have been minutes before the door swung open again, another table being wheeled through. She curled up tighter, really not wanting to be taken away from her shreds of comfort again.

Again? Had she been taken before?

But there were no rough hands against her arms, no one yanking at her covers, and she counted her blessings, content to ignore whatever else was going on in the room. The door closed once again and she relaxed back into her cocoon, curling it around her more tightly.

There was shuffling from the other side of the room, and she tensed. She had thought she was alone. Something pressed in on her, and she worried that whoever was there was going to try and unwrap her, to hurt her, but thankfully they didn’t. Instead, after a small amount of shuffling and sniffing, a weight settled around her, making her feel even safer than the blankets.

She was so tired, and wanted to sleep so badly, but couldn’t help but be wary. What if this was another trick?

Another? Had there been previous tricks?

Her magic was feeble, but it couldn’t resist reaching out to get some kind of read on whoever was curled around her. As her magic brushed against the foreign entity, it jolted.

“D--cee?” The sound was muffled.

“Hnnn?” She gave in response, too tired for full words.

“Darcy?” It was a man’s voice, rich as it caressed her ears.

“Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!
> 
> but also:
> 
> Lets play a game!  
> Thanksgiving is just around the corner, so why don't you guys tell me a little about what you do for thanksgiving? Maybe a general overview, anything you're planning on bringing, and what you're most looking forward to?  
> My family switches off christmas and thanksgiving between by maternal and paternal grandparents- and the respective aunts/uncles that live nearby. This year, we are bringing pies, though i'm thinking about also making pumpkin spice cookies, i'm not sure... And i'm most looking forward to uncle randy's mashed potatoes
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! I get a little lonely over there...  
> [My everything account](%E2%80%9Clemirabitur.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or [My original content account](%E2%80%9Cmarvelhardt.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)
> 
> I've also done some art for another fic on here, so, uh, if anyone wants fanart, i'm looking for inspiration so I can hone my skills in illustrator and photoshop...


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Amyliana, for the simple review of 'excuse you'

He snuffled closer to the warm mound of blankets, sighing as he tried to relax. A tingling feeling washed over him, making the hair on his arm stand on end. It felt warm but cautious, and unerringly familiar. The sense memory of sparkling blue eyes, bright lips, home and honey on his tongue.

“Darcy?” He tried to ask, mouth buried in the blankets. He got a questioning sound in response.

“Darcy?” Was his mate here? That was good, that she was with him, but also very bad, because this was not a good safe-place.

“Who?” The noise was soft as it came from inside the pile of blankets, but it felt like a punch to the gut. He started pawing at the blankets, growing frantic and calling her name.

“Darcy, Darcy!” He cried, not sure of what he was trying to convey but filled with a sense of urgency.

When he uncovered her at last, he felt a profound sense of hollowness, as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and had left a void right under his heart. Her skin had tipped over the edge of fair and right into pasty, throwing the bruises under her eyes into sharp relief. Her cheekbones were in sharp relief, and he could see her veins through her translucent skin, and the sheen it seemed to have.

She looked frail, and he hated to see her that way. She was so strong, she shouldn’t look so defeated. A fire burned in his chest, yearning to consume this wretched place in an inferno, reducing it to ash.

He gathered her into his arms, clutching her to his chest, and she went along, blinking in confusion.

“What is… Who?” It broke his heart to hear her sounding so lost. He was supposed to be her protector, her mate and partner in all things, and he had let this happen to her. 

“B- ‘m Buc.” He managed to force out. The words were hard to form his lips around, teeth ever so slightly too large for his mouth, canines even larger, and head unused to the neural pathways required for speech. What was it that he had been trying to say? Buchanan or Bucky? Which one was he? He received a sharp burst of pain when he tried to pursue that line of thinking, so he quickly discarded it in favor of seeing to the girl in his arms.

She whimpered as he unwrapped her further, and his face crumpled at the sound, but he needed to know where else she had been hurt. 

Her legs looked fine, albeit clammy and pale, and she was covered in a short dress-  **_hospital gown_ ** \- yes, that. Knowing that taking her last remaining layer would cause her even greater distress, he contented himself with stretching the fabric taut across her body, looking for irregularities or stains from wounds or dressings. He worked his way up clinically, feeling too sick to gain any enjoyment from her form. Her torso looked fine, as did her shoulders, but when he reached the crook of her elbow he froze.

There were needle marks in her arm. 

_ There were needle marks in her arm. _

**_Assets must be enhanced to ensure survival of wiping procedures_ ** -

_ no no No No NO NO NONONONONO _

It was a chorus running through his head.

Darcy was perfect, why would they feel the need to change that?

**_Assets must be enhanced to ensure survival_ ** -

No, they couldn’t take her to the chair, they couldn’t! He wouldn’t let them! 

**_Assets have no power. Assets do not make decisions._ **

He was not an ‘ _ asset _ ’, and he would do whatever he damn well pleased.

He grasped her face in his hands, her hands flying up to his chest at the movement, and he searched for the tell-tale marks from the chair. He could still feel those bursts of pain against his face from every time he had been in the machine, somehow even stronger and more poignant than the pain in his head.

No marks. 

He released tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She hadn’t gone into the chair. They hadn’t taken her away from herself.

“You. Darcy.” The words were floating around his head, not wanting to come out, but he needed to tell her.

“Me? Darcy?” She looked into the middle distance, deep in thought. “Yes, that sounds right. I’m Darcy, aren’t I? And you’re Bucky?”

He nodded his head eagerly. She had remembered him! Had recognized him right away despite her confusion! 

He smiled and she instinctively flinched back before stopping and taking a closer look at him. 

His teeth were large and misshapen, fitting poorly in his mouth. His canines protruded down even farther, glinting from the light of the caged bulb above the door. But he looked earnest, not threatening. His ears were up and alert and… furry? Were they normally like that?

No, she was quite sure they weren’t, but the furry appendages were somehow fitting with his demeanor. She felt like she ought to have questioned it, but she hadn’t questioned anything in what felt like ages. She couldn’t put her finger on what had happened, but at some point, her sessions in the medical labs stopped having as much of an impact on her memory. Like it had been glossed over.

She blinked back to herself, finding her gaze locked firmly on his ears. They twitched, and she blinked again. As her eyes traveled down, she saw that she hadn’t been alone in her perusal, and his eyes were locked with hers.

They stared at each other, breathing in sync.

She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, and was leaning closer, when the door to their cell swung open. Someone was being scolded, being told that if they’d said something, whoever it was would have waited, but she didn’t have time to process what she was hearing before a man strode into the room.

An average looking man with an angular face and soft curls of brown hair stood in the doorway. There was authority in his posture for a brief moment before it became more subtly subservient.

“Ms. Lewis is needed in the medical wing.” He stated. He sounded sorry, but Bucky didn’t trust it. 

Darcy gave a cry of dismay as she was hauled off the floor, and Bucky was on his feet in an instant, snarling, the tail he hadn’t realized he had stiff at his back. She cried out again as they jostled her, and Bucky gnashed his teeth, wanting to sink them into one of the goons, preferably the one with his hand just a little too close to her breast to be considered a natural part of handling a prisoner.

“Now, now, guys, let’s be civil, shall we?” The man’s posture was pleading but his tone was commanding. “Let’s be gentle with Ms. Lewis, we wouldn’t want her to come to any harm, now would we?”

Their hands gentled but they still dragged Darcy out of the room and down the hall. The man apologized as he shut the door behind him, and Bucky slumped, knowing there was nothing he could do.

 

She was strapped down again, stars in her veins, drifting in and out of awareness.

She focused what little cognizance she had into trying to ascertain at least  _ something _ about her surroundings. Now that Bucky was here, she had a chance of escaping.

Her ears strained for any sound, eyelids too weak to open.

“. . . _ problem  _ . . .  _ not working . . .” _

“. . . _ magic . . . block . . .” _

“. . . _ father . . . curse . . .” _

“. . . _ Stark . . .” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *describes my plans for the next couple of chapters*  
> Gem: Noooooo!!!!!  
> Me: YOu knew this was going to happen! We talked about this!
> 
>  
> 
> You guys might think you know what is going to happen, but you don't. You have no idea.  
> If any of you manage to guess, I will make a video of me flipping a table. I will buy a hat just so I can eat my hat.  
> You don't even know.
> 
> (but feel free to guess)  
>  
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! I get a little lonely over there...  
> [My everything account](%E2%80%9Clemirabitur.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or [My original content account](%E2%80%9Cmarvelhardt.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to believeale 
> 
> This chapter has a bit of foreshadowing, and some important information sprinkled throughout- see if you can't pick it out and leave a comment! I love to hear what you guys think!

When she returned, he felt relieved. He knew she was going to return. But he was still relieved.

She was always shaky and pale when she returned, more track marks in the crook of her elbow, and lost in her own head. He gathered her into his arms and rocked, crooning in a doomed attempt to comfort them both.

Darcy, his star, his light in the darkness of this hellhole, always saw the positives, even if he could only concentrate on the bruises and blood spots from the needles.

“At least it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said, though he knew that wasn’t exactly the truth. He knew the serum burned as it worked itself through your veins, violating you down to your DNA as it searched for those fragments of code that meant  _ greater _ and  _ magical _ and  _ creature _ . HYDRA was messing with things that were better left alone, and he knew the change would hurt.

But, for now, it hurt less than having her flesh cut to see how quickly she would heal. To feel pain for the sake of it, to test how much she could endure.

At least the serum was better than that.

-

The man who they had come to know as Seth, with the brown hair and angular face had brought them supplies again. 

Two days worth of meal rations with sufficient caloric intake days not spent on a mission. The man also handed him a small pouch of liquid with a wink. A ‘Capri Sun’, a sweet juice with no identifiable benefits. He scowled and furrowed his brow in confusion, but Seth had already turned away.

He handed the pouch to his cellmate, who stared blankly at it for several long moments before recognition slowly filtered through her eyes. 

He watched as a faint smile curled around her lips, relaxing a tension he hadn’t realize he’d been holding at her subtle sign of approval. His cellmate was quickly becoming the most important person to him. He found he did not mind.

Approximately 5 days ago, the Other inside of his head had grown so distressed at not being able to verbally ascertain the wellbeing of his cellmate that he shoved the Asset to the fore, using him as a mouthpiece. This might have been considered beneath the Asset, had he any sense of pride or shame. As it was, he did not mind this task. He could not remember a time when he was so free to speak- it had been discouraged by his old handlers.

Handlers came and went with time, even as the Asset remained untouched by its passage. For lack of a rigorous command structure, he found that the Other had naturally fallen into that role, giving him orders that felt more like guidelines and not punishing him for hesitation. 

He found he liked this new system. He liked the relative freedom. He liked the safety of commands, and the knowledge that the Other would take over if needed. That he did not need to do everything on his own. That he was no longer alone.

He liked his cellmate, too.

His cellmate- Darcy, as she had murmured one night- was warm and soft, a sweet-smelling contrast to the cold blocks of their cell. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he took care of her in her after-session confusion and lethargy. The nights were no longer times for necessary rest, but for peace, with her by his side. 

In all his years of  ~~ living ~~ surviving, he had never felt so at peace. In the back of his head, the Other rumbled his agreement.

 

That peace was shattered the next morning, as the door burst open and a flood of people entered his territory, sending him abruptly from blissful slumber into action. He leapt out of their nest of blankets, inwardly mourning the loss of the feeling of Darcy in his arms, and moved to stand in front of her, guarding his most important person. 

There were guns pointed at him. His head shook, the Winter Soldier surging forward at the threat, and they stood side by side, both inhabiting the body simultaneously as they prepared to defend their mate, their mission, their Darcy.

“Terribly sorry.” It was Seth. The man who took Darcy away each morning and returned her each evening. He claimed he was just doing his job as he led Darcy to the medical wing, but he could smell the stench of deceit.

He growled, unhappy with the man’s presence in the first place, but even more displeased with the multitude of others in a semicircle by the door, guns pointed at his heart.

“I know, I know,” placated Seth, raising his hands in supplication. The movement wafted his scent across the room, and his nose wrinkled at the smell. “I know how much you hate when your little angel goes off to the medical wing, but I’ve managed to come up with a solution.”

His growling stopped, but he didn’t relax. In this particular organization, ‘solutions’ rarely worked out to his benefit.

“I’ve cut you a deal with the higher ups,” continued Seth conspiratorially. He sounded like a used car salesman. Not that he really knew what a used car salesman sounded like… “Instead of going to the medical wing, your girl is going to be going to the labs!” Seth sounded excited. He didn’t like the way Seth sounded excited. It rang false in his ears and he felt an instinctive revulsion to the word ‘labs.’ 

The Asset and the wolf conferred in their head, and the Asset took control of their mouth. “Why all the guns.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand for information. He saw several of the armed men shifting their fingers nervously on the grips of their firearms. 

Good. They should be nervous with the Claw of HYDRA in their midst. It was gratifying to see that his reputation hadn’t waned in his absence.

“Well…” Seth demurred. The wolf sneered at the affectation, but the Asset’s rigid control kept it from showing on the outside. “The higher ups weren’t sure how you would take the change of plans. They know how much you like routine.” 

The Winter Soldier had been a master of improvisation, renowned throughout certain circles in Soviet Russia for being able to complete missions in even the most unpredictable circumstances. It seemed that knowledge had been lost when Alexi had moved to America after the fall of the Soviet Union. His father would be turning in his grave, if his former handler had had one.

The Asset could handle any situation that was thrown his way, but they did have one thing right. He did like routine, if he was in enemy territory. Routine meant predictability. Predictability meant he knew what was going on. Knowledge was power, even as a prisoner. And he very much did not like this loss of power at the change in routine.

But the Asset was smart. He knew he could not hope to defeat all of these men and escape while protecting Darcy, who had awakened at his growling. So he stepped aside and let them take her. His gaze was filled with an unfathomable sense of sadness and anguish as they dragged Darcy away. Her eyes met his and he flinched internally at the hurt he saw there.

“Now, Soldier.” Seth’s voice startled him out of his staring contest with the last place he had seen Darcy. “Are you ready for your mission for the day?”

His shoulders slumped minutely and he turned to face the man. He nodded resolutely. He didn’t think he could stand the hours alone without Darcy, worrying about what they might be doing to her. A mission would be a way to pass the time, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting anything out of it.

He was given supplies and rewards in return for completing missions. A couple of sweets here, a clean blanket there. Darcy had been overjoyed when she had come back one day and found him holding a bar of soap. 

The missions weren’t hard, either. Mostly retrieval of information. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

He felt like he could handle anything, for Darcy. Anything to make her happy. Anything to keep her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Honestly, guys... I realize that I said you'd never guess it, but I kind of hoped you'd try... Like- I'm not convinced the lot of you read the full chapter, since nobody reacted to the very last line...
> 
> I guess it's less that you won't be able to guess anything, and more that it's so complex that I'd forget half of it if I didn't have it written down... I'd love for you to guess, but I'd be honestly surprised if you got it right off the bat. It's entirely possible that you'll pick up on some of what is going on in this part, though, so feel free to guess! 
> 
>  
> 
> I've stuck in some hints about what is going on, did anyone manage to pick up on it?
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! I get a little lonely over there...  
> [My everything account](%E2%80%9Clemirabitur.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or [My original content account](%E2%80%9Cmarvelhardt.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to hootyhoobuckaroo
> 
> I sent them an ask on tumblr and they said that I was one of their favorite fanfic authors!!!! I was just so flattered!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for how late this is in coming, I was sick as a dog, and then recovering, and then it was dead week and then finals week and I just haven't gotten around to posting it...
> 
> A little bit of an ew factor in a little bit of this, so heads up

She didn’t like being strapped to a table and left alone for hours with an IV in her arm. She didn’t.

But at least she knew what to anticipate. Hours alone, with the occasional orderly coming by to check on the IV line. Getting lost in her thoughts and letting her mind drift as the purple concoction entering her veins swept her further from reality.

It wasn’t ideal, but it had become normal. Routine.

The ‘labs’ were an unknown variable, and Darcy found that she didn’t like them at all.

The morning had begun with a rocky start. Instead of waking up safe in Bucky’s arms, she had been roused by the bass tones of his growl reverberating through her frame and setting her body to tingling, fight or flight mode activated. There had been words, but she hadn’t been listening.

Instead of meekly walking over to the wheelchair when provided and being taken to the medical wing, she was hauled down the hall by harsh grips on her upper arms. Bucky had stepped aside as they took her and she could clearly see the pain in his eyes. Her feet dragged on the floor when she stumbled, the two men on either side not bothering to wait for her to regain her footing.

Instead of being carefully strapped to something between a gurney and a surgical table with movements that could have been gentle if they weren’t so impersonal, her arms were held in place while she was hauled into a chair that wouldn’t look out of place in a dentist's office.

Instead of injecting something into her, they were taking blood.

Her gaze whirled wildly around the room as they held her to the chair with rough hands. There were people in lab coats and clipboards milling around the space, some already watching her closely and jotting down notes. There was a table off to the side with a multitude of things she was not at all keen on getting a closer look at- shining steel instruments, a mallet, a box of something furry that seemed to be moving.

As if by some unseen signal, all of the hands restraining her let go, and she tensed in the chair, prepared for just about anything at this point.

“Miss Lewis.” Her head whipped around, the sudden pain in her neck overshadowed by the presence of this new player. It was a tall man, with pointed features and slicked back hair. His figure was gaunt, though his three piece suit was still well fitted to his form, the sign of an excellent tailor.

 _This_ was the Man in Charge, capital letters not optional. If the furtive glances from the rest of the room didn’t make that clear, the clothes did. No one else would wear a suit like that in a place like this.

“How do you find yourself today?” Darcy shivered. The pleasantries felt slimy against her skin and the fact that this man didn’t feel the need to be overtly threatening put her all the more on edge. It showed confidence. She didn’t like confidence in her adversaries. Not like this.

“I can’t say you’ll be getting a 5-star Yelp review,” she snarked back. She was missing the floating oblivion that came with the medical wing already, and they hadn’t even started. The man’s lips quirked into a faint smirk and one brow lifted.

“Still a bit of sass in you, eh?” He asked rhetorically. “It’s a pity that we can’t give you MI1112, but it would skew with the results of the tests.” An off hand comment, rhetorical, but she couldn’t resist asking for more information, anything that might help with whatever was to come next.

“What tests?”

“Oh, you’ll soon find out, my dear.” She shuddered at the pet name. “Wrap this up and let’s get started, shall we?” He asked, waving one finger in ring in the air to punctuate the order. Had they not already started? Had the blood draw been a warm-up? Or did they need it for something else. There were a lot of things you could do with someone’s blood, even if it was forcefully taken. Sometimes the magic was even more powerful if it didn’t have consent.

Any plan that required a blood draw from lab coats with squid-skulls on them was not a plan she wanted to be a part of.

“Miss Lewis.” A lab coat stepped forward and took charge. “Open your mouth and prepare to bite down.”

No, she didn’t like where this was going at all.

\--

It was child's play to interrogate this bumbling simpleton without the man noticing. The corpulent man was holding court around a craps table, a cadre of gaudily clad airheads surrounding him, the former HYDRA Asset blending in with the throng. His smile was so far away from his eyes that he was sure it didn’t even reach his nose.

“So you see, no one even expects what’s behind the gilded exteriors of my… _bath houses,_ ” the portly man let out a hearty chuckle and a conspiring wink as if he had said something particularly clever about his string of underage whore houses. Barnes was too professional to let his distaste show on the outside, even behind the rim of his scotch glass, but the man's presence was a bitter companion to the rich alcohol in his mouth.

Tiberius Mingeon was an idiot, but he seemed to have a profound sort of luck when it came to his business dealings. His enterprises were unsavory, but desired by many, and he did an adequate job of protecting the privacy of his clientele, until, of course, more recent months. He had apparently stumbled upon the fact that one of his regulars was a man of some renown, a powerful figure in the international entity known as HYDRA. Armed with proof of both this man’s ties to the organization and his proclivities for the flesh of youths, he had attempted to blackmail the client for a larger profit.

Try as they might, the upper echelons hadn’t managed to secure the location of the backups of Mingeons ‘proof’, and so they sent in their best interrogator, his easy demeanor and sharp smile the perfect tool to make this moron spill his guts.

Oh, if only, Barnes thought internally. He would dearly love to just slit this mans jiggling tummy and be out of here, back to the room to wait for Darcy. But she was going to be stressed when she came back from her first day wherever they were taking her, and she would be glad to have some soap. If he finished the mission without any problems, he would get soap. It was the only reason he was willing to do this in the first place.

There was a lull in the conversation as Mingeon called for more drinks, and he took the opportunity to look around the casino. He didn’t know where exactly they were, and though he could easily find out, he didn’t much care to. The ‘handler’ for this mission hadn’t deigned it important enough information, and he had heard one of the techs mumbling that if he didn’t know where he was, he couldn’t escape. The idea that not knowing his location would stop him was laughable, but he would never leave Darcy in that shithole, so here he was, feeling himself wither a little inside at each movement of the man’s many chins.

At least he wasn’t alone, though he couldn’t say all that much for the company he was keeping.

The mission required speech, so he’d had to rouse Winter from the back of his mind to help him. For a time, it had felt like they were two boys jostling each other in an attempt to share a pair of binoculars, but after a while they had settled into a rhythm and were working seamlessly together.

He wanted to fall into a pile of blankets with Darcy in his arms. He wanted to bury his nose into the area of her neck where her scent was strongest and lose himself in her.

But he had a mission to complete.

When he got the information, he could go to Darcy.

He could hold her and cuddle her and pretend that everything was fine.

He turned back to Mingeon and gave a slow grin. “So, tell me more about your bath houses, Mr. Mingeon.” The man’s eyes lit up at the interest.

It was going to be a long night.

\--

There was blood in her teeth.

Her jaw ached and there was blood in her teeth. Her whole body ached, really, and she felt entirely drained by the time she made it back to the room she had started to think of as hers.

The lab tech had come at her with something cradled in his hands, instructing her to open her mouth and prepare to bit down. She couldn’t see what it was he was holding, but a hand tightened threateningly on the back of her neck when she tried to shift away, so she opened her mouth for whatever was to come. Something warm and furry was pressed against her teeth, and she could distantly hear the instructions to bite as she tried to figure out what it was.

The thing shifted in her mouth and she could feel tiny pinpricks against her lip as it moved. Was it- was it alive?

She recoiled and did her best to push the small creature out with her tongue, but there was nowhere for her to go. The lab tech sighed impatiently, as if she was the one being unreasonable, and repositioned the small rodent so that it was directly in the path of her teeth.

“Bite down.” He instructed again. She looked up at him with wide eyes, pleading with him to remove the small animal. He gazed back dispassionately. Her eyes danced around the room, looking for somebody, anybody, to remove the rodent and maybe slide in a needle and turn on the drip so she could slide back into that dazed oblivion that was so much more appealing than this.

Anything was better than this.

“Bite down, Miss Lewis.”

The Man in Charge, this time, glaring down at her with cold eyes, lips pursed like she was some kind of recalcitrant child. A child with a squirming mammal being forced into her mouth.

“I can’t.” She tried to say around the obstruction. Her eyes were tearing in distress, and she could feel the tail of the small creature as it hit her cheek. Her words were garbled and the tech sighed in vexation as he removed the thrashing animal so she could repeat herself. “I can’t.”

The Man in Charge, MiC, Mr. Greaseball with his hair slicked back with so much shine she had to wonder if the product would ruin his collar, lifted one eyebrow skeptically. “You can’t?” They both knew it wasn’t a question. A man like that didn’t ask questions.

She looked at the squirming ball of fur that had once been in her mouth and saw that it was a mouse. An adult mouse with light yellow, almost blond fur that made her think of bulging muscles, rippling pecs, and kind blue eyes. Soft sweaters and bear hugs. Home.

Her chin wrinkled as her face crumbled in distress. She shook her head, throat too tight for words.

“And why is that?” Again, it wasn’t a question.

“Because I’m not a monster.” She croaked out. They could pump her full of who knows what. They could force her to their will- Darcy was under no illusions that she was strong enough to resist. They could wipe her mind. But they couldn’t make her a monster. Not like them.

“How can you be so sure, Miss Lewis?” He sounded so smug and condescending, and her blood went cold as the words registered. HYDRA didn’t just play with science. They had their fingers in every pie imaginable, magical, mundane, mystical, occult. Who knows what they had been pumping into her for however long she’d been at their tender mercy.

They tried again, but even with the MiC’s voice swirling through her head, she refused to bite down on the small form and its frantic heartbeat she could feel pulsing against the back of her teeth. She writhed away, trying to close her mouth without the creature inside, her hands coming up to push the tech away. Before she could make contact and shove, her arms were wrenched down painfully, rough hands holding her in place as rope was wound around her wrists.

The tech tried again, and she refused to open her mouth. One of the lab coats behind her had evidently become fed up with the pace of the proceedings, and she felt another hand come over her face to roughly pinch her nose. She tried to be smart, opened her lips and kept her teeth clenched, breath hissing between the gaps, but she wasn’t getting enough air. She gasped and gained only a mouthful of fur.

Still, she wouldn’t bite. She blinked back tears but could only see a swarm of white lab coats around her, rough hands reaching for her face.

A palm slammed into her chest and she hit the back of the chair with a force that jolted through her body. Her jaw instinctively clenched and the tiny body in her mouth gave a squeak that she could hear from the inside. Unlike a typical dentists chair, this one was not padded, and she could feel a sharp pain radiating from two points in her back. Her shoulder blades must have hit the chair first when she was forced backwards.

“Now listen up, Miss Lewis.” The lab coat with his hand on the middle of her chest spoke, his palm giving a steadily increasing pressure that slowly took away what little air she had left. Her name sounded like vitriol in his mouth, and she wanted them to stop saying it. “You are going to bite down so we can get our sample, and then you can go home.”

Home. Didn’t that sound nice? But home wasn’t here, home was in the tower with her people and her wards. Home wasn’t a 10 ft stone room with a pile of blankets, ration wrappers, and a spigot and drain in the corner. She knew they weren’t going to let her go home.

She shook her head as much as she could, eyes staring blankly straight ahead and jaw starting to cramp as she held it open.

A hand came up to cradle her jaw, a crude mockery of a caress.

“We could just force her jaw shut with the thing inside,” the lab coat offered, looking at the rest of the room. The original lab tech sighed.

“You know we need a true bite, not just jaws in flesh.” Darcy shuddered at the phrasing. What a thing to say.

She shook her head again.

A lab tech with a sour curl to his mouth approached MiC and murmured something into his ear. MiC narrowed his eyes at Darcy and then sighed wearily.

“Plan B,” he announced, and the room seemed to give a sigh of disappointment. Some small part of her felt vindicated; if she couldn’t be happy with the way her day was going, they couldn’t be either.

To her immense relief, the mouse was removed from her mouth, and she was pleased to see that the trail of saliva that connected them for that moment was clear, no sign of blood.

There was movement around the table and the tech returned, cradling something in his hands once again. Her nose was pinched preemptively and she opened her mouth with a gasp, immediately receiving another mouthful of fur, this one cold and unmoving.

“It’s already dead.” The tech stated, looking down at her like she was a grade schooler he thought was particularly stupid and disgusting.

She did nothing for a moment but then there was a hot puff of air against the side of her face and a voice in her ear. “Do it. Bit down, or we’ll make you.”

Darcy bit down, and cried a little as she felt the flesh give way.

Tears were still falling down her face when she was wheeled back into the room, and Bucky gathered her up into his arms and rocked them both, crooning softly to her.

“They let me keep my name.” She sobbed. He held her even closer.

“There’s blood in my teeth, and they let me keep my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO MICE WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER
> 
> do you hate me yet?
> 
> we had Winter all up in here, getting poetic and long winded... he's really starting to develop his voice, isn't he?
> 
> real talk, though, i choose the names for people and things very carefully, with a lot of thought behind them- names have meaning and power, you know....  
> So, does anyone have any guesses about the meaning behind names this chapter?
> 
>  
> 
> We LOVE getting comments- feel free to drop us a line!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Lizzy B, who commented on 29... I realize that I'm a chapter late with that, but you know, life happened...

He clutched her close to him as she shivered and cried, the sobs shuddering through her body. She would occasionally let out a murmur about her name, and tuck her head further into the worn but thankfully clean shirt that he had been given after debrief. She was warm in his arms, fitting perfectly against his larger form.

He stroked a hand down her back to offer some small fragment of comfort, but froze as she flinched violently. Hurriedly but with the utmost care, he turned her around and pulled up the back of her shirt to inspect what exactly had caused her pain.

He was such a bad mate, not even trying to check her health before comforting her. What if he had made her condition worse, whatever it was? He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. Not his sweet, kind Darcy. 

The flesh of her back was raw and inflamed, entire areas of skin chapped and peeling, with bruises and swelling fighting for prominence. It looked like a grotesque rash on either side of her spine, almost a foot in length if he was any judge. There were several scrapes that had already started to heal.

When had this happened? Had it been there this morning? He hadn’t been able to look her over before she was whisked away to the labs.

Barnes lightly prodded one swollen area and she hissed in pain. 

“What...” The Winter Soldier ground out, forcing the words through lips stiff with fury. Darcy waited for him to finish. “...happened.” Words were hard for them, but in this case they were a necessity.  ~~They~~ he needed to know.

“Shoved into wall,” Darcy panted. The flesh was incredibly tender to the touch, though it quieted to a dull roar of soreness if left alone.

“Come.” She was bloody and tired, and he could tend to her. He couldn’t treat her back or wipe her pain away or take them out of this place, but he could do this.

Darcy dutifully took her place under the spigot that had been mounted about a meter from the ground along one side of the room. It had been there when they had arrived, but Barnes had received the handle for good behavior several days prior. She lifted her arms as he took off her shirt and then stepped out of her pants one leg at a time, her cold hands resting on his shoulder for balance.

He wished desperately that he was doing this in a different context, her lush body being revealed to him as he removed her coverings, but his body never stirred in interest, knowing that this wasn’t the time and that she needed him for more than the pleasure he could make her feel. He removed his own clothing as well, knowing they couldn’t afford to allow their meager protections against the chill to get wet.

She shivered as the water hit her, kneeling down to get at least her shoulders under the spray but holding her hair out of the way. They may have fresh water, but that didn’t mean it was heated. He gathered his reward for the day, a fresh bar of soap with a thankfully mild and inoffensive scent, and lathered it up in his palms before running it over her arms as they were clutched around her middle for some semblance of warmth. His thumbs skimmed against the underside of her breasts as he passed, and he distantly noticed that her nipples were tight buds from the cold, but the shivering caught more of his attention.

He circled around to her back, cleaning the inflamed flesh as gently as he could, cursing the warrior’s calluses from the guns and knives and garrotes, knowing they were rough against her skin. Luckily, though, the cold of the water seemed to have numbed the area and reduced some of the swelling, so she didn’t flinch at his touch.

But she was still shivering. 

 

He had heard her wax poetically about the benefits of a good shower after a long days work, and how refreshed she felt. He could remember horror stories about what could happen if you didn’t wash often enough- fungus and lice and rashes. He could remember the plates of his arm grinding against each other after certain missions, grit stuck in the delicate machinery. 

He couldn’t save her, but he could give her this. And maybe it would help.

He stepped closer behind her, his legs bracketing hers and his front flush against her back. His member didn’t make any attempt to rise, even when faced with actually touching the object of his affections. He brought his hands forward and ran them down her shoulders and over her breasts, cleaning them efficiently but not paying them any special attention before moving on to her stomach.

She sighed and leaned back against him, thankful for the warmth he seemed to radiate and the comfort he provided. He was so good to her, taking care as he first extended one leg and then the other, easing the soap over skin that hadn’t seen a shower in over a month and a half. She felt safe in his arms, protected from the cruelties of the world, and sheltered from her most immediate concern, the frigid water.

It took her a moment to realize that he had stopped. She lifted her head from where it had been resting it on his shoulder and looked at him in question. 

“Should…” The words came in a low grunt, like they had to be punched out of him. “...I?” Her brows furrowed before she followed his gaze and saw his hand holding the soap and hovering right above the join of her thighs. Her eyes went wide in realization and she reached out a trembling hand to take it. It quickly slipped from her grasp, but left enough of a lather for her purpose. She washed the most private parts of herself in a perfunctory manner while he began to rinse off the rest of her, and then looked up to him for guidance.

“Hair?” She nodded and let him guide her under the spray of water, a new wave of ice flowing over her head and face before it was taken away by the feeling of his fingertips against her scalp, working the water through and then working soap through. 

A part of her winced at how dry and tangled her hair was going to feel after this, but the rest of her was too happy about finally rinsing away the past month that she didn’t even care that she was using body soap on her hair. He rinsed her off again and then shuffled them away from the spigot, helping her wring out her hair and then dressing her again before laying her down to rest. 

She was so exhausted from the day that she seemed to slip right into a shivering void of nothingness that lasted only a little while before she felt a warmth against her back and curling around her, chasing away anything bad.

\---

The next morning still came too soon, as she was woken up yet again by deep growls rumbling through the chest of the man behind her. Again, Seth apologized about the break in routine, but the growls only grew louder. 

She was taken through hallway after hallway, twists and turns that she couldn’t even begin to remember and count, and was finally placed in a sturdy chair with her legs shackled to its legs. A bowl sat on a table off to the side, but she couldn’t see its contents.

Seth stood opposite her, an ingratiating smile on his pointed face. 

“Now, Darcy,” he began, his words like oil and honey in the air. “I know that yesterday was difficult for everyone involved.” She didn’t like his phrasing. ‘Everyone involved’.  _ She _ was the one that had had a bad day, being forced to bite into some poor mouse as it squirmed. Everyone else had been the cause of the difficulty. It was like saying there were mistakes made on both sides. No- one side was the victims, the other side was Nazis. It’s that simple.

“I convinced the Higher-ups to allow you a bit of respite from stressers, and thought we could do some scrying instead. We-  _ I _ heard that the Lewis Coven was good at that. Whaddya say?” The lingo sounded strange in his mouth, like he was having to force his tongue to contort around the word. 

She raised one eyebrow but nodded her assent. The ‘Higher-ups’ obviously hadn’t done their research. It was well known in certain circles that Darcy had not inherited the Lewis knack for scrying, something often attributed to her father.

The table and bowl were moved in front of her and she huffed out a breath, standing up to gaze into the water. 

Her eyes lost focus, showing her two blurring images of the bowl superimposed on top of each other as she got lost in thought. 

“Well?” Said Seth after several minutes, snapping her out of her daze. She blinked away the image behind her eyes, only then realizing that it hadn’t been of the water in the bowl. She huffed in irritation at the interruption. He’d said that this was going to be an easy day to make up for yesterday. And it would be, if he would stop interrupting. 

“Listen, Seth,” She said, trying to keep a subservient tone even as she prepared to tell him why everything he was doing was wrong. “One does not simply interrupt a scrying session.” There was a snigger from the back of the room- obviously one of the guards was a nerd. 

“Yes, but Darcy,” He began. She didn’t like how often he was saying her name. “To allow you this reprieve, I need to show my superiors some kind of progress. Maybe you could… narrate?” His tone was obsequious but there was steel behind his eyes. Darcy humphed again, but acquiesced.

She turned back to the bowl and let her gaze lose focus again. If it worked the first time, it should work the second time.

“Bubbles.” She said. 

Her concentration broke as a shadow fell across the bowl. She looked up to see one of the guards leaning over the bowl and peering in. 

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Checking for bubbles.” She could feel a twitch starting to form under her right eye. 

“You were checking for bubbles.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you said that there were bubbles. The information packet said that the bowl must be full of clear, unmoving water with no debris.” 

“The information packet.”

“Yes, the information packet that we all had to read before taking this assignment. Didn’t everybody read it?” The guard looked around and was met with uncomfortable shuffling and low murmurs. Darcy pinched her brow.

“Did you read the whole thing?” 

“... I skimmed.” The guard admitted. Thor save her from the idiots of the world.

“Did you see anything about not interrupting a scrying session?” The guards eyebrows came together and formed a little crease in the center and he reached into one of his pockets to pull out a packet of folded paper, held together by a staple.

“Is that the information packet?” 

“Yes…?”

“Give it here,” she demanded, holding out her hand imperiously. The guard meekly handed it over before Seth had time to react, so it was already in his hands by the time he was able to rush over and say, ever so politely, that he would take it. 

“I’m fine, Seth.” She replied, as she skimmed through it, gathering details at lightning speed.

“No, really,” he tried again, “I must insist.” He reached his hand out for the papers and she turned away, taking them out of his grasp.

“I must decline.”

“I must insist.”

“I must decline.” She had no doubt that they could have gone on for hours, except she finally had reached the end of the information and found the section she was looking for. 

“Here.” She said, shoving it at the guards face, finger pointing to the correct section on the last page. “This section right here. Read it. Read it and weep.”

The guard dutifully read over the section and then looked back up at her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” She prompted. 

“For interrupting your scrying by creating a shadow over the bowl.” He said, his head low in shame. Darcy made a shooing motion and the guard moved back to his station, about three steps behind her and to the side. Seth stood in the middle of the room, face tense and hand still outstretched, as if frozen.

“You, too.” She said brusquely. He looked at her in confusion. 

“Me, too? Me, too, what?”

“Shoo. Get out of the way and stop interrupting,” she said, making a sweeping motion with her hands. He returned to his position, still looking shocked, and she resumed her stance over the bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, uhhhh, sorry for the hiatus, we just had our winter break, and so were away from school. I was visiting relatives, cuddling my cats, and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, which I still haven't managed quite yet... Last semester I was falling back into the funk where my classes didn't interest/inspire me, and my grades reflected that...
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> So, biblioworm gave me a little note:   
>   
> P.S. I hope the blond rat gets rescued and adopted too.  
> and I have made an executive decision that the little blonde mouse(yeah, sorry, it's a mouse) will be showing up in later chapters! So I am now holding a CONTEST!!!! 
> 
> Yay, a contest!!  
> Basically, I want you to leave me a name for the mouse and why you think it deserves that name(meaning, special significance, etc).   
> I didn't specify a gender- I used some male comparisons and the male pronouns because Darcy chose to, so I'm open to any name.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dedicating this chapter to JediKaren- I'm sorry that my dirty soap picture was too slick.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long- it's been ready for a while but I really wanted to finish the art to go with it, and I just wasn't happy with it.

“Are you able to see into your own future?” Seth, yet again, was interrupting her.

“Yes.”

“Do so.” His orders rankled, making her want to pull her shoulders up near her jaw, but she restrained herself using all of the techniques that Natasha had taught her.

 _You never know when you will need to hide something from the enemy,_ _лапочка. You need to be able to control your body, or it will give you away…_

She gazed down into the bowl, letting herself get lost. A multitude of colors swirled in the bowl, before finally resolving into something her poor human mind could comprehend. She drew in a rasping breath, distantly noting that this was perhaps the very first time she had ever successfully scryed something. Grandma Lewis would be so proud.

“What do you see?” Came a low voice, seeping through her consciousness like an oil spill. The man with the pointed face.

“Bubbles… Scales…” Her lips felt dry, but it didn’t seem to matter. Dull whispers battered against her skull, echoing around her but never penetrating her thoughts. The voices sounded far away, like a dream. Fuzzy sounds that didn’t really register.

_“It’s worked, then, hasn’t it? We’ve succeeded in making a hydra!”_

_“A hydra for HYDRA!”_

_“But didn’t hydra’s have lots of heads?”_

_“No, I thought it was lots of tentacles…”_

_“They were legendary sea monsters, you dolt, didn’t you do your research?”_

_“To be fair, the logo is kind of misleading…”_

_“It’s not a logo, it’s an emblem. There’s a difference.”_

“Go on…” Came the voice again, crooning at her from beyond her current grasp of being.

“... Water…” Swirling blue and rushing through the currents, the coolness of the ocean on her skin. Skin?

_“See? I told you- Legendary sea monster!”_

_“‘Water’? Is she being sarcastic?”_

_“Hmm, if she really is a hydra, we might need a bigger tank…”_

_“We already have a tank for her? Isn’t that kind of counting your sea monsters before they’ve metamorphosed?_

_“What?”_

_“... Like counting your chickens before they’ve hatched? But with sea monsters…?”_

“...Blood traveling down a back…”

_“So it will work!”_

_“What will work? We already got that she’s gonna turn into a giant monster, keep up, will you?”_

_“No- the next phase! Where she will stand at the side of the Winter Soldier and bring glory to our cause!”_

_“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”_

_“Of course it’s a good idea! We will be respected and finally be able to bring order to the world! The earth will tremble under our might, and fear the wrath of HYDRA and their Hydra!”_

_“You don’t say…”_

_“Empires will surrender at the sheer sight of her!”_

“... Feathers…”

_“Glory, you said? Surrendering at the sheer sight of her? How exactly did it go, again?”_

_“How can she be scary if she’s covered in feathers?”_

_“... Birds can be scary…”_

_“Just because a goose chased you when you were a kid doesn’t mean that everyone has an irrational fear of birds, Corbin.”_

_“It’s not irrational!”_

_“Didn’t it recently come out that dinosaurs are covered in feathers?”_

_“That’s still up for debate.”_

_“... Maybe we’re feeding her chickens?”_

_“That doesn’t seem right… Large felines eat between 10 and 25 pounds of prey each day… Wouldn’t a hydra be larger than a lion? That would be at least 5 chickens a day- why wouldn’t we just feed her beef?”_

_“Shut up, Ainsley. Why do you know so much about that, anyway?”_

_“What- I’m not allowed to have other interests?”_

_“....”_

_“Sir, should we ask her what type of feathers they are?”_

“What type of-” She cut the speaker off as the vision began to change suddenly.

“Red. So much red, red in the veins…”

_“Well, obviously it’s blood…”_

_“Anything else to say, Ainsley?”_

_“No, that seems like a fair assumption…”_

“... Scars, silver scars…”

_“Well, training can be brutal here…”_

_“Yeah, I still have that scar from when numbnuts over here bit me during a sparring match._

_“I said I was sorry!”_

_“Sorry doesn’t take the scar away, now does it?”_

“... Stretch marks…”

_“... Um…”_

_“I mean, that makes sense, too, if she’s getting bigger and bulking up from training…”_

“I have to make a report of this- Ainsley, you’re in charge.” Footsteps, and then nothing…

“Okay…” There was a new voice. It was unfamiliar, but she was sure she had heard it before… Wasn’t it the voice of the guard that had been so concerned that he had checked for bubbles.

“... Runes, mouse, flower?” She rattled off in quick succession, the vision rapidly spinning out of her control, as if Seth had been a stabilizing influence. What would Grandma Lewis say if she heard that she needed help controlling her scrying- especially the help of a man? She’d never be able to show her face at a coven gathering ever again…

“Yeah!” The new voice exclaimed. “Speaking of the flower- do you see anything about Barnes?”

“Teeth.” She answered promptly, immediately recognizing the maw as it passed over the surface of the water.

_“He’s gonna be fierce!”_

“Wagging tail.” It looked so fluffy, she wanted to stroke it. Her hand reached forward, but before she could touch the water, probably, disrupt the scrying, the scene changed. “Howling at the moon.”

_“Wagging tail? What, like some kind of lap dog?”_

_“He’ll be happy to comply.”_

_“Howling at the moon?”_

_“The beast will do our bidding, too.”_

“I actually meant you and Barnes specifically…”

_“What the hell is he doing?”_

_“Why do we care about the two of them together?”_

“Soap…” She smiled a little as she remembered his gentle hold as he cleaned her, hands never once straying inappropriately. “Chocolate. Flower.” Her expression was gentle as she looked down into the bowl holding her past, present, and future all at once.

“Anything el-” The voice of the guard tried to continue, but cut itself off as she jolted in place.

“Red.” Her voice was full of unease as she stared at the color.

“Um… What?”

“Red red red red…”

“What’s going on, what is she doing?”

Her hands were reaching up to her head and clenching in her hair, pulling painfully at the strands in an attempt to gain some kind of clarity.

“Red Red Red Red…”

“Somebody stop her, she’s clawing at her face!”

“RED RED RED RED-”

And then suddenly there was nothing, just her standing in front of a table, scratch marks stinging the skin of her face, staring at an overturned bowl and a puddle of water.

She slid slowly to the ground, shuddering lightly as she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

More red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> Did somebody call for something red?
> 
>  
> 
> Out of curiosity, does anyone else want to make some art for this? I'd be interested in seeing someone elses style...
> 
> Also, the anniversary of this fic is coming up! Who all has been here since the beginning?
> 
> Edit: I get to be in charge of these things, and I say that you've been here since the beginning if you came before my accidental summer hiatus- aka: the first 9 chapters!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter dedicated to Selene_Aduial! Who gave me 22 comments in the span of a day and a half.
> 
> I kept getting email notifications during class and I was so confused about why people were commenting on the story right then, since it was a couple of days after I had updated. It turns out that they had stockpiled some chapters and were going through them all at once.

When Barnes returned, he found Darcy already asleep, a faint whiff of the sterile lab equipment still clung to her skin, but he couldn’t detect any blood.

He checked just to make sure, and lost himself momentarily in her scent, still sweet under all of the grime and pain.

He settled behind her with a thump, blindly nosing around for the crook of her neck underneath her hair and bringing his arm around her middle before going absolutely boneless.

HYDRA wanted their Winter Soldier back, that much was clear, and he had been ordered to train recruits.

The tall, thin man with the aquiline nose had barked out the mandate and then turned and strode away with confidence. The body formerly known as James Barnes bristled at this man having the gall to give him orders, but kept it inside, hidden behind the flawless facade of their perfect little Asset that no longer existed. He could easily rip this man apart with his bare hands, killing him before his nerves even sent the signals that something was wrong, spray the room with his blood- but no. He had to be good. It wasn’t just his life and wellbeing at stake, here.

Winter and wolf had been talking, or as much as two separate personalities could while their host remained dormant- mostly notions and thought fragments- and they had agreed that Darcy was the best thing that had ever happened to them, and they would rather die than betray her.

The training had been easy, but their peripheral vision had been haunted by visions of red hair and ballet shoes- little girls being taught by the big bad wolf.

Wolves and girls. Both with sharp teeth.

His head was starting to pound.

The day had been long, and he was ready to rest.

\---

Darcy woke up in darkness, her limbs heavy and slow and her head swimming. What had happened? Had she been drugged? Her attempt to move was pretty sad- more of a flop, really, but it was enough that she could feel the restrictions of her movement. Panic filled her for a brief moment before she recognized the arms around her, the give of relaxed muscles and the unwavering firmness of his metal arm- it was Bucky, cuddled up to her in his sleep. He usually woke before her and was doing some kind of exercise around the room, but he was still asleep.

When had he come back? What time was it?

She instinctively moved to check her wrist but was quickly thwarted as Bucky tightened his hold on her, sticking his nose further into her neck and taking a deep breath. She had noticed that he seemed to have a particular affinity for her scent, and had used it to calm himself down in several instances. It was fine, she wasn’t wearing a watch, anyway…

She was comfortable enough for the moment, and could still feel exhaustion in her bones…

Might as well get more rest before she was carted back out of the room.

\---

She woke up again an unknown amount of time later and was guided into a wheelchair by the impersonal touches of the orderlies. She fought the urge to relax- just because this was a familiar song and dance didn’t mean things wouldn’t change- HYDRA was notorious for changing their tune…

She was strapped onto the cold metal table that she hated to admit she’d missed, and let herself relax into the inevitable.

She wasn’t giving up, she told herself. She wasn’t giving in to these monsters. She was simply biding her time. Help would come, or someone would make an escape, but she was weak and outnumbered. It was better to wait and plan.

The squeal of the IV stand made her eyes jolt back open, some part of her unwilling to not take a good, hard look at what would eventually be pressed into her veins.

She was glad she had, because this was something very out of the ordinary. Instead of the purple that she was so used to seeing flowing into her arm, it was red. ~~Red like blood~~ \- No! Red like wine? She didn’t know- it was just very red and she didn’t like it at all.

_… A flash of red, then blue…_

The thought drifted up through her consciousness. Where had that come from?

 _There were stars in her veins, bright bursts all along her body._ _Something burning as it was pushed through her veins, burrowing deep inside of her and making its way to her heart._

She blinked several times at the memory. It felt like a dream, but too many elements had been real. Was that the first time she had been strapped down and injected?

She jumped at the prick of pain at her elbow, and the orderlies murmured to each other, speaking over her as if she wasn’t there.

“She hasn’t jumped like that since the second week.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be jumpy after spending the day with Commander Connelly-”

“Shhh, she’s still awake.”

“Well of course she is, with the new mix, she won’t be going under as much as before.”

They quickly finished hooking her up to the bag of ominous liquid and left, still arguing. She stared with dread at the red flowing down the tubing, waiting for it to hit her system.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And then- was that? A deep, throbbing ache was beginning to develop in her arm. She lay there in anticipation of something more, something that would undoubtedly be worse, but nothing came. Gradually, she became aware of a pulsing sensation in her veins, something beating out of time with her heart. Was it beating? It felt like moving. Like something writhing inside of her arm and slowly traveling to the rest of her body.

This was a liquid, right? She had seen it move as the orderlies wheeled the IV in- why did it feel like that?

This wasn’t floating.

No, nothing so peaceful.

This was drowning.

Drowning in a sea of red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was going to write something for the anniversary, but we had a snow day and the college closed because of the -50 windchill, and then I had this chapter done last week, but Gem made some art and I wanted to add some color and refine some lines, but I haven't finished it yet and I really thought I should just post the chapter...  
> So look out for an authors note in the chapter after this one about going back to this chapter to look at some art?
> 
> In other news, I now have a professional instagram! It only has one post on it, but that will soon change!  
> Feel free to go check me out, @j.r.hardt


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Mickey_la!  
> We always love it when you specifically reference that there are two of us!!!
> 
> Also- go back and check out the last chapter! I added in the art!!!

The days began to blend together as she settled back into the routine of visiting the labs every day. It was the same as it ever had been, the only difference being the color of the IV bag and how much help she needed from the orderlies to get onto the bed.

She let them insert the needle into her arm, passively staring at the ceiling. ~~‘Let’ might have been a strong word.~~  Some part of her was thankful for the clarity that she now had, but the other part was dying from the monotony and longing for the haze that she had felt in the first few weeks with the bag of purple swaying gently on its hook.

Gaze unfocused and staring up, she allowed herself to drift.

~~ Drifting in a sea of red. ~~

\---

Barnes, on the other hand, was making quick work of the recruits, relishing all of the blows he dealt while, in the back of his mind, quietly pleased at the success of his training. He tried to tamp that down- being proud of your success and that of your pupils was one thing, but this was HYDRA, and he wasn’t exactly teaching them of his own free will. Teaching your enemies to be better at fighting wasn’t something to take pride in...

Catching his mind drifting, he drew himself back to the task at hand, forcing himself to put more focus into showing this pissant who, exactly, was the Alpha in these parts. If he was lucky, the little pissant might even piss his pants- becoming a piss-pants!

He almost snorted at his own joke, and the surprise at the near lapse in control surprised him so much that his guard lowered for a fraction of a second. 

He was even more stunned when a fist managed to slam into the side of his face.

But not as stunned as the recruit, who stood in front of him staring at his own fist as if it had developed a mind of its own. Barnes shook his head and let out a low growl, the sound barely rumbling in his throat, and launched himself back at his opponent, who hadn’t even looked up to face his oncoming doom. 

The lighting in the room seemed to change, and he blinked in surprise, losing his focus yet again. Why was nobody reacting to the darkness? He looked around in confusion, and saw the equally confused faces of the rest of the trainees. One of the men barked out an order, he couldn’t quite hear it over the cotton in his ears, and another raced to the wall, picking up something attached to a black box with a spiraled cord. A… Telephone? Is that what that was? The words were fading in and out.

The world seemed to shift and invert, becoming hazy around him, and he lowered himself to the floor. It was good to be in a secure position during an earthquake, best to not show his belly. That’s how it went, right? 

Just as his eyes feeling almost too heavy to lift, the door crashes open and everyone around him straightens to attention, even the Lieutenant Commander that had been giving him the orders. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then jerked back open as he heard a sharp voice crack through the room, demanding to know what exactly was going on. 

His fuzzy ears twitched even as they receded into his head. He knew that voice, didn’t he? It brought to mind a sharp angular face and eyes that glittered like beetles. 

Who was it?

\--

The table jolted beneath her, and she was launched back into awareness. Had she fallen asleep? Well, the world of dreams was a far cry better than reality. Shaking the remnants of her dream away- flying free and soaring through the air before diving into cool water- she blinked.

Four men entered the room and strode towards her. It couldn’t be time to go already, could it? She hadn’t been here that long… And these men weren’t dressed in the normal scrubs of the orderlies, instead they were wearing what looked very much like under armour long sleeve shirts and black tactical pants. She instinctively looked down at her wrist, but no, she wasn’t wearing a watch, she hadn’t had one in ages. She supposed a watch would get in the way of the wrist cuffs, though, wouldn’t it? So that made sense.

She gazed up at them in blank confusion as they unbuckled her shackles, but that turned to alarm as they forwent the wheelchair and two of them decided to instead simply hoist her up in their arms and carry her through the walls of the compound like that. They hadn’t even bothered to detach the IV, so the bag and its stand was being pulled along behind her, with a rather painful tug on her arm every time they took a step. 

She didn’t pay any attention to where they were going, more concerned with trying to reach her left hand up to hold the needle in place on her right arm, but one of the men slapped her hand away, grunting at her to keep still. 

So she did.

She kept still in their arms even as the needle shifted in her arm, and when they finally stopped she couldn’t tell whether the liquid under her skin was blood or the IV fluid seeping into her muscle tissues or whatever else could happen from an improperly placed IV needle…

They opened the door, and she was set on her feet in a familiar room. It was her cell- why were they bringing her back here already? And- was that Bucky slumped on the floor next to the mattress?

She tried to rush forward, but was stopped as the line of the IV caught on the corner of the doorframe, the stand and bag still out in the hallway. Two men stepped into her path as she tried to go and retrieve it, so she carefully used the line to tug the stand to her, also taking the time to settle the needle back into her arm in the orientation she was pretty sure it had been in before. By the time she turned back around, the stand safely in her grasp and the needle no longer tugging, a man was waiting for her, standing directly in the path she would take to get to Bucky.

It was a tall, thin man, with a rather unfortunately hooked nose, wearing a suit and a sour expression on his face.

“Miss Lewis.” He stated. She shuddered at his use of his name. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to need a verbal response from her, since he continued. “As you can see, Soldat has had a bit of a decline in performance, and we are unsure as to why. Do you have anything you can add?” 

What did he mean ‘a decline in performance?’ Had they punished him for not meeting their standards?

“I- I don’t know,” Darcy cried out. “Everything has been normal!”

“Do not test my patience, Miss Lewis.” He warned. With a brief gesture, two goons stepped up behind her and clamped their hands heavily on her shoulders. She stumbled under the weight and her fingers clutched at the IV stand and bag, trying to get a hold of herself. WIth the feeling of metal, rubber, and hard plastic under her hands, she pulled herself up, letting go immediately as she felt something move under her grasp. Had she broken the IV bag? That would surely get her a punishment, wouldn’t it? 

Her eyes darted to Bucky in fear and then back to the bag to check, but no, it looked normal, though she didn’t usually see it from so close.

“I really don’t know, nothing looked wrong!” Her legs are trembling under her and she feels weak, which isn’t helped by the fact that, with another hand gesture, the two goons at her back turn her and slam her against the wall, causing a sharp line of pain to run up either side of her spine.

“Miss Lewis.” The man stepped closer and glared down his nose at her. “Soldat is a very valuable asset, and believe me, you will not like the consequences if we find out you are lying about not realizing something was wrong after sharing living quarters for the better part of a month.”

“A month?” She rasps out, her mouth suddenly not obeying the orders of her mind. Had it been a month since he had arrived, like a knight in shining armor- or just shining arm, as it were- only to be thwarted by the many headed dragon guarding the gate?

Did that make her the princess? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being the damsel in distress. 

“What of it.” Not a request or a question, but a demand for answers.

“How long have I been here?” She asked. “How long?!” Time had passed strangely, that was certain, but how much of it had she lost? How many days could she not remember? 

It dawned on her that she had been able to wear the same two sets of clothing for the entirety of her duration here- or as much as she could remember. She was given no hygiene supplies other than what Bucky was given, and she hadn’t had to wash blood from her panties even once. But surely it had been more than a month? At least for her, since she’d been here longer? Stress could only prolong the inevitable for so long…

She thrashed against her restraints again, looking down at Bucky as he lay on the ground in a heap, dead to the world. She was no expert, but shouldn’t he have transformed in the time he’d been here? She choked on her own spit as she gasped in surprise as she saw them- his ears! His human ears! They looked cleaner than the rest of his face, yet sat so innocuously against his head as if they had been there the whole time. 

Was it the new moon already? Had the wolf been sent to dormancy? Why, then, wasn’t he awake? He still had his human side to fall back on, didn’t he?

She lurched forward, easily breaking the loose grip of the hands that held her, neither of the goons expecting her to put up much of a fight. Her back came away feeling wet and sticky and throbbing with the beat of her heart, a pulse of red at the back of her awareness, but she didn’t care.

“What did you do to him?” She demanded. Her hands reached out, letting go of the IV stand in favor of grasping the lapels of the man’s suit. “What did you do?” She cried again, “How long has it been?”

The man sneered down at her as her hands lost their strength, goons at her back pulling her back into place while another man, this time in scrubs. He took the IV pole and looked over the bag, tsking to himself before unscrewing a Y-joint she hadn’t seen and attaching a syringe of something clear. Whatever he had added was potent, and it hit her in a rush, her body slumping against the wall and opening a new wave of agony against her back. 

Even as her head lolled to the side, she kept her furious gaze locked on the man in the suit.

“You needn’t worry about the time, Miss Lewis. You’re with HYDRA now, and I think you’ll find that days, weeks, months, and even years lose their individual meaning in the grand scheme of things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally unrelated question: how would you 'tsk' someone? We had the dude in scrubs 'tsking' her, but what is that sound, to you? I would usually pronounce it 'tisk, tisk', though the first k is silent if you say it as a pair...
> 
> Gem was reading the chapter on her computer and I saw that she was reading below my 'BREAK' note, where I separate what is actual chapter content, and what is my outline of what is to come...  
> Me: Gem, you're supposed to read above the break  
> Gem: Rules can't stop me.
> 
> Ladies and gents, I present to you, Gem. An absolute icon. 
> 
> She was watching me type this over my shoulder, and she bent over and nearly snort-laughed as I wrote that last line


End file.
